


Beauty and the Beast

by Sean0226



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 41,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sean0226/pseuds/Sean0226
Summary: This story is about a teenager and a bad "wolf" learning how to get into a relationship and rasing a baby.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother tongue. The original edition of this story is in Chinese. I try my best to translate it into English to share with more people who like teen wolf and sterek. So if there are any grammar/language erros (sure there will be), Please forgive me.

Chapter 1

"I think I'll take that advanced biology class, " Scott says, folding the racquet into the cabinet,   
"What do you think, Stiles?"  
“…What did you say?” After being stabbed by Scott’s elbow, Stiles reacts with a confused face.  
“I'm talking about…" Scott sighs, "You seem to be in a daze a lot lately. What's going on, man?”  
Stiles opens his dark eyes wide, clutches the stubble behind his ear, and looks around, "daze... No, I, I just slept a little less last night... "  
“Hey, Stiles,” Scott lowers his voice, grabs Stiles’ shoulder, and pulls him behind himself, frowning at the dressing room entrance. His shoulders rise slightly in a defensive posture.  
Stiles, who is very familiar with this reaction, immediately holds his breath nervously.  
Slowly, a figure of a man appears at the door.  
“Hey, kids,” says the man, wearing a V-neck casual shirt, waves at the two.  
It’s Peter.  
Scott is still in a guarded position.  
Peter reaches out a hand and leans against the wall indifferently, “I just want to talk about your friend and my family,” He smiles, but the smile is a little bit cold, “You know, bad thing.”  
Only then Scott stands straight and says to Stiles who is right behind him, “You slept with Malia and he found out? “  
“What the fuck? He also slept with my daughter?!“ Peter raises his voice.  
“No…” Stiles shakes his head to Scott hastily at first, but turns around and yells at Peter after hearing what he said, “Why are you so surprised? Malia and I once had a relationship anyway!”  
Almost at the same time, a loud noise drowns Stiles’ last note, Stiles feels that he is thrown violently to the floor by Scott, and when he looks up, he sees that Scott firmly pins Peter onto the locker just in time to stop Peter from tearing a hole in Stiles’ flimsy body.  
Peter’s clenched hand has grown out a razor-sharp claw. The impact was so great that the metal cage behind him was dented. He still screams at Stiles with a menacing growl and shows his sharp fangs.  
Scott, too, is in his werewolf form, repressively shows the bright red pupil of alpha identity to Peter without hesitation.  
Stiles wiggles his arms trying to stop the fight, “Hey, you…you can’t be so violent. This is school!”  
Apparently, Peter has more intentional intimidation, and he does not continue to struggle, shrugging his shoulders at Scott.  
Scott pauses for a moment, thinking, “Wait, not about Malia, then who else did Stiles sleep with?” He frowns, “Cora’s back?”  
“No!” Peter rolls his eyes in outright disdain for Scott’s intelligence quotient.  
Scott’s eyebrow furrows as he stares down at the still-handsome old man on the locker and opens his mouth wide. “Oh my…you are not going to tell me…”  
“Jesus Christ!” Peter spreads his hands and howls with chagrin, ”Are you serious?” He looks back at Stiles and repeats desperately, ”You tell me, is he fucking serious?”  
Stiles holds his head, thinking this must be the end of the world.  
Scott raises an eyebrow and begins to ponder who else is left in the Hale family tree. When he realizes that there is only one person left to choose from, his eyes widen. “Holy shit! It can’t be…”  
“Derek!” Peter says out the name which Scott hasn’t realized until now loud, “My god, are you sure you did not hit your head somewhere when you were a kid?”  
Scott stares blankly at Stiles,” Dude, you slept with Derek? Derek?”  
Stiles moves the hands holding his head to the front to cover his face then buries his head deep between his legs, hoping to shrink to so small that no one would see him.  
Scott lets go of Peter and waves his hand, “God, what am I supposed to say…”  
Peter straightens his clothes, “Not only that, but I’m here to tell you that Derek is preg…”  
“Bam!!” Another much louder noise, Peter who has just been released by Scott, is thrown to the floor again, and then again is picked up and fells on the floor repeatedly. Peter groans and fells softly back to the ground unconsciously. Tables, chairs, and baskets at the entrance are all on the floor.  
The Werewolf, with one knee on Peter's body, slowly stands up, facing Scott and Stiles who stares into two hazel blue eyes. Derek stands erect and always seems so natural as to show off his tall, muscular, perfect figure.   
Scott hesitates for a moment and pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Hi, Derek.”  
“Hi, Scott," Derek responds to the call with a deadpan.  
Stiles, sitting on the floor, feels his legs like jelly. He waves stiffly at Derek and imitates Scott to greet but with shaking voice, “ Hi… Hi, D… Derek.”  
Derek gives Stiles his signature “Death Glare” (Stiles’ secret name for the look), his glassy eyes almost taking away the last bit of Stiles’ body heat.  
Then, without saying anything, Derek bends down and grabs Peter’s shit from his chest and pulled him out slowly.  
When Derek disappears completely at the door of the dressing room, the other two are relieved, looking at each other, and don’t know what to say for a while.  
“I want to die.” Finally, Stiles utters in a weak, despondent voice.  
“…Well, you are gonna die.” Scott glances at the mess in the room and whispers correction to his friend’s words.

“I can’t believe you slept with Derek!” Scott walks up and down the room, “Are you crazy? You! You didn’t say a word to me?”  
“I mean… I’ve been texting him lately,” Scott says, tugging on his hair, “God, this is so embarrassing!”  
“I wish I could tell you,” Stiles says as he sits on the bed, repeatedly twisting his fingers, “How am I supposed to say anything?”  
“Like, hey, dude, you know what, I kinda crew Derek?” Stiles raises his hands dramatically.  
“So… “ Scott is silent for two seconds, decides to figure out the context first, “When this happened?”  
“The full moon before last.”  
“So long ago?”  
“Do you want to hear or not?”  
Scott curls his lips and sits back at the computer desk and shakes his stool at Stiles.  
“I didn’t remember going out that night, and the next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Derek’s house.” Falters Stiles, scratching his fingernails.   
“Nogitsune?” Scott frowns. The fox that once possessed Stiles has been evicted, but Deaton says the residual power of the Nogisune may still leave Scott with side effects.  
“I think so.” Stiles presses his finger to his chin with concern.

It was late at night, drizzling, and Stiles felt the cold and wet before he saw the heavy iron sliding door. He could not remember whether he had knocked or not, but the next moment the door was opened and he realized that he knocked.  
Derek, in his gray T-shirt, looked at him coldly. He always liked to wear solid-colored T-shirts that covered his lean, muscular body in thin layers, revealing every muscle line half-hidden. That’s why Derek doesn’t bother with his clothes because the person who sees him won’t notice what he’s wearing.  
“You shouldn't be here today," said Derek, raising an eyebrow to make a point of refusing an interview.   
He's right. On a full moon, when the werewolves are at their most powerful, the newborn werewolves are so gripped by power and bloodlust that they cannot contain their metamorphoses. Of course, Derek is not one of these neophytes, but he also needs a strong will to resist the urge to tear every living thing that comes his way.  
Like Stiles.  
Stiles thought his spirit was floating in the air. When he couldn’t help but nod at Derek’s words like chickens peck rice, his body threw itself on Derek and held his neck with lightning speed.  
No warning.   
Incredible.  
The sober part of Stiles was stunned.  
He wasn’t alone, of course, Derek didn’t respond for the next three seconds.  
And then things got out of control.  
Derek was clearly irritated by Stiles’ probing his tongue, and his arm tightened around Stiles’ back.  
Usually, by this time Stiles would be flying in a parabola, hitting a wall or something to stop the movement.  
But the Nogitsune’s power was never just about controlling Stiles’ mind, including strengthening his body.  
When Derek saw that Stiles remained unmoved, he realized at once that Stiles was no longer the thin, pale, neurotic mess that he was. But Derek still retained the power to fight back, because whoever’s in there, Stiles owns this body.  
So Stiles just rolls Derek to the floor easily.  
Derek's living room was very empty, more precisely, his home was more like an empty metal warehouse. So Stiles was pretty sure that they could roll over without breaking anything for a while. The conscious Stiles thought he’s getting ahead of himself.  
They were wrestling on the floor. That is, until Derek finally intolerance and let out a howl of exasperation and menace. Derek’s eyes were bright blue in the dark.  
Stiles finally stopped in front of these inhuman eyes.  
Then Stiles heard his own raucous, sensual voice, "Derek, I miss you."  
Derek froze.  
Stiles was stunned, too. What did he say? What did he say to Derek?  
Stiles was suddenly feeling really scared. Because that's exactly what he wanted to say.  
He misses Derek.  
They obviously did not leave each other. They lived in the same town. But every time Derek turned to leave, he felt a strange sense of loss.  
Apparently, this sentence became a kind of narcotic and a catalyst.  
By the time Stiles came to his senses, he and Derek were back together.  
Derek's hands were firmly on the back of his neck, only this time instead of trying to pull him apart, he was pressing hard against him in the opposite direction.  
Derek's lips pressed together, moist, his stubble prickling as Stiles' chin and lip edges tingled.  
Derek had broad shoulders, a strong chest, and long, straight legs.  
Derek's snorting, going up and down, breathing hot.  
Stiles felt like he's about to burst into flames. Of course, he's got a hard-on. His primal urges took over his brain. He tore Derek's clothes in an eager, haphazard manner, eagerly touching Derek's warm, wheaten skin with his palms.   
Stiles had never been more aggressive, rude, or crazy in his entire life.  
He was deep in Derek's body, pressing Derek's shoulders down and kissing his neck. He even lifted Derek's waist, leaving teeth marks on his lower abdomen. Derek's eyes burned with a blue flame, he gasped in a heavy, staccato way, the Werewolf's power came back as he lost control of his emotions, yes, Derek was aroused, and he was having as good sex as Stiles. 

"He cut me a long way down the back, and it hurt," Stiles raises his hoodie and shows Scott the marks from Derek’s paw.  
"I don't want details, for God's sake!" Scott puts his hands over his ears and shakes his head.  
Stiles drops his clothes, pauses for a few seconds, sighs, ”I must be crazy. This whole thing is... shit!”  
Scott looks at him quietly for a moment, then suddenly says, ” Nogitsune always brings out the deepest desires of your heart, so what if this is your deepest desire?”  
Stiles looks up at Scott.  
His friend was not usually very bright, but he always has an indescribable keen insight into a point.  
My own desire.   
It's Derek. Derek Hale.  
"But how did Peter find out about this?" Scott lets Stiles off the line, " Besides, it's too long to settle accounts with you, isn't it?”  
Stiles habitually scratches his head. "Well, I've been thinking about it a lot. "  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos and comments!  
> I am slow but I will keep writing.

Chapter 2

“Uh...“ Peter Wakes up in the passenger seat, "Come on, that's what you do to your dear uncle?"  
Derek keeps a straight face, looks straight ahead, and drives unimpressed.  
"I mean, shouldn't we tell that Brat?" Peter is clearly not going to shut up, "after all...preg… "  
"Say the word, and I'll rip your throat out, for the second time." Derek snaps.  
Peter stretches his neck, "Hey, that hurts my feelings..." he pauses, frowning, "Why is your heart racing?"  
Derek doesn't speak, his teeth clench slightly, his face looks a little pale.   
"Derek?"  
"Shut up! Uh..." Derek slams on the brakes, and when Peter almost hits the windshield, he pops the door and rushes out.  
With his elbows on the glass, Peter stares in amazement at the empty driver's seat. The werewolf's keen hearing has made it clear to him that he could hear Derek vomiting in the distance.  
"...are you all right?" Peter stands behind Derek, reaches out, but then draws back and folds his arms.  
Derek is holding on to the tree trunk and folds down again, throwing up even harder.  
As he was about to fall forward, Peter finally grabs his shoulder and pulls one of his arms around his neck.  
The skin contact immediately alerts Peter to Derek's unusually high temperature.   
Derek’s eyes are closed, his eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s clearly in pain. He coughs and suddenly clutches his chest with on hand.  
Peter feels a sharp pain in his shoulder, and as he looks over his shoulder, a sharp claw has appeared on Derek’s hand.  
“You must be kidding me…” Peter rolls his eyes in frustration.

“Derek, what the hell are you doing!” Peter quickly drags Derek into the car, “You can’t change here! Not dark yet! City streets!”  
Derek moans, opens his eyes and looks over. His eyes are bright blue and cold.  
“Damn it!” Peter whispers curses, pushes Derek into the co-driver’s seat and wonders what else can be used to tie up the werewolf nephew who suddenly lost control and is about to change shape.  
Derek throws his head back in an animal scream, revealing his white fangs.  
Peter sighs and flexes his arms and legs in preparation for his own suppression.  
But Derek suddenly curls up and taps his hand on the counter in the front of the car, leaving a clear paw print.  
He looks up at Peter, his forehead covered with a cold sweat. Under his deliberate suppression, his eyes have returned to their original hazelnut color, and the pain was floating inside.  
It is then that Peter sees Derek's other hand are pressing tightly on his lower abdomen, and the veins on the back of his hand are bulging.  
“Oh, this is obviously not a good situation...”  
Peter takes a step back and presses his head against his temple.

Deaton has finished packing his medicine cabinet and is on his way to dinner when he hears the door to his clinic smacked on purpose.  
He comes out and narrows his eyes after seeing the person out of the door clearly.  
Peter wraps his arm around Derek's waist and lifts the sliding man up, panting. "No help, old friend?"  
Deaton looks at Derek, half-conscious, and frowns in confusion and surprise.

“Who is it?”  
“It’s Deaton.” Scott put the phone down.  
“Oh, is it urging you to go to work?" Stiles rises from bed, "You go, I'll get myself home."  
"Wait, he wants you to come too."  
“Me?”  
“Yes,” Scott pauses for a second, “…Derek is there.”  
Stiles freezes.

“Did you…Please say that again?” Stiles shakes his head, trying to make sure that he is mistaken.  
“Derek is pregnant," Deaton repeats, clearly on every word, though his expression is also awkward.  
Scott stands there with his mouth open.  
“But…how is that possible?” Stiles steps back and waves his meaningless hand gesture, “It’s not common sense, is it?”   
Even though the very word “common sense” is a bit ironic as he discusses it with two werewolves and a Druid in the room.  
“Stiles…”  
“Don’t talk to me! Let me think…” Stiles makes a “stop” hand gesture and backs away, slowly bending over to cover his mouth, “Oh, my God, I think I’m having a panic attack…”  
Scott rushes up and pats him on the back. “Stiles, breath, breath…”  
"Any paper bags?" Scott looks around, grabbing a grocery bag off the counter and shoving it into Stiles' hand.  
Stiles points the bag at his mouth and nose, then gradually recovers the rhythm of breathing. What enters his nose is the disgusting smell of a tuna sandwich. He suddenly crushes the paper bag into a ball in his palm, covering his chest and panting.

Peter who has been watching the play finally opens his hand and sneers, “Ah-ha, teenagers.”  
"So, can I get to the point?" Deaton directs the conversation to continue.   
“... Is that not the point?” Stiles shivers and holds the medicine cabinet behind him.  
Deaton nods, “I can't really explain where the baby came from, but what I'm trying to say is, Derek, as a werewolf, has super-healing power.   
Biologically speaking, fetuses are foreign bodies to their mothers, are invaders. And women's adverse reactions in the early stages of pregnancy are the result of the confrontation between mothers and fetuses. Finally, hormone balance achieves the continuation of pregnancy.  
Female werewolves are no exception, but Derek is male..." He pauses so that the audience can think out the result, “The werewolf’s excellent healing instincts will cause his body to automatically start eliminating the invader, which is the fetus…”  
“Woo, wait a minute,” Stiles stops in horror. He muses, frowning, “Eliminating…means…killing…?”  
Deaton nods, “Or absorption, something like that.”  
Peter pinches his chin, “Huh.”  
Scott's face immediately shows an expression of vomiting.  
Stiles has to hold up his best friend’s shoulder to steady himself, “You can’t tell me I’m going to have a baby one minute and then tell me it’s dead the next!”

The room is quiet for a few seconds as the disguised admission of a sort of terrible fact by Stiles.  
“Not yet, it’s the worst-case scenario,” says Deaton, striving to maintain the objectivity of the outsider’s reasoning, “There is a way to keep the baby alive for now, if you want.”  
“…Like what?” Stiles swallows his salvia and asks finally.  
“Cripple the werewolf power of Derek,” Deaton shrugs, “It’s actually a very simple and straightforward method----Wolfsbane.”  
“Are you telling me you’re gonna give Derek the werewolf death agent?” Stiles’ face is like “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”  
“In very very thin concentrations, of course.”  
Stiles covers his face again, choking and gagging.  
“Er…Maybe you’d like to see him first?” Deaton chooses his words carefully, conveying the central idea that “ You two need to talk”.  
Stiles blinks and rubs his hair as if he has called up all his courage, “Yeah, you’re right. I…Is he awake?”  
Deaton gestures inwardly, smiling encouragingly.  
“Do you want me to come with you?” Scott shows his support in time, though his expression is obviously reluctant.  
“No, I think… I mean, I’ll go on my own.” Stiles’ hair is getting messier, which makes him look like a student who just pulled an all-nighter but still got a D.  
So the rest of them watch him.

Stiles squeezes the door handle, counts to three, and pushes in.  
Stiles doesn’t see it coming. Derek is already awake.  
Derek sits on the operating table, which has been used to operate on dogs and cats and has been used by countless supernatural beings (mostly cadavers).  
Both of Derek’s long legs barely touch the floor.  
He places his forearms around his legs and, bending over, raises his head to stare at Stiles.  
The first thing Stiles remembers is the look of Derek, two years ago, when he was shot in the arm by Kate with a special bullet, threatening him to help amputate his arm viciously.  
The same room, the same white, glaring light, the same bloodless, sickly, emaciated Derek.  
“You’re already awake?” Stiles stares at the lines on the floor tiles, “So…You hear everything?”  
“Yes.” Derek sits up and taps his fingers on the surface of the table behind him.  
Stiles can’t help but look at Derek’s belly, then looks away in a panic.  
As if aware of his movements, Derek leaps from the operating table with his arm propped up. His strength is not restored yet, and he unsteadily put his hand back on the table.  
Stiles takes a step forward, subconsciously tries to help him.  
Derek immediately withdraws his hand and walks out the door.  
As he passes in front of Stiles, Stiles stares blankly at his handsome side face and tries to speak but without a clue.  
Stiles catches up immediately.

When Derek walks into the room, none of the three people outside looks comfortable.  
Scott keeps looking at Stiles behind him. Stiles glances back weakly at him and follows Derek step by step.  
Derek walks up to Deaton as if no one is watching. Then he lifts up his sleeves and puts his bare forearm out in front of Deaton. “Wolfsbane.”  
“Derek!” The rest of the group call out by his name at the same time.   
“Or it’s going to die.” Derek looks back at Stiles and says simply, coldly.  
“Come on!” Peter stands up from his chair, fuming.  
Stiles presses his lips together, but no immediate response.  
Deaton looks at Stiles too, as if waiting for an answer.  
Stiles takes a deep breath, walks up to Derek, and whispers, “If that’s what you think, I agree.”  
Peter purses his lips and sits back down, frowning desperately.

Deaton quickly concocts the Wolfsbane solution and injects Derek with a small half-pipe.  
As Derek stands up, visibly shaking, Stiles grabs his arm.  
It is their first physical contact since that night.  
Stiles' hand recognizes the familiar, beautiful lines of muscle, and it's as if a fire ignites his nerves.  
His desire is never quenched.  
Derek quickly removes his arm. "I'm going home."  
Peter comes up to Derek and reaches out his helping hand. Holding on to his nephew, Peter turns to Stiles and gives him a knowing and unfriendly look.  
The car starts outside. Stiles shakes his head. "Did I screw up?"   
Scott looks at him sympathetically, "Maybe it's not that bad... "  
Deaton is setting the table. “It doesn’t make any sense. I’ll do some research to find an explanation,” He says, pausing, “If you’re going to keep the baby, I think I’m going to take a long journey to find a spell or something.”  
“Thank you, Deaton.”  
Stiles knows Derek wants the baby the minute he reached out to Deaton. Because he knows how important family is to Derek. He lost almost the whole family in the fire, so Derek put blood before everything.  
He came to Beacon Hill in search of his sister Laura, and even though he was furious and killed Peter for betraying the family after Peter was resurrected he accepted the ill-tempered uncle to his metal fortress anyway. He even gave up alpha’s power to save his sister Cora.  
Derek is eager to reunite the surviving members of his shattered family. On such matters, Derek is more like a sacrificial martyr, so gentle and compromising that no care about the principle.  
Deaton taps Stiles on the shoulder. "By the way, I think Derek still needs some serious human testing, like a Sonogram," he says as he looks around his clinic, "Not these gadgets for pets."  
Stiles and Scott look at each other, feeling the pain in their heads gets worse.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The chemistry teacher is explaining the formula used in today's experiment.  
Stiles sticks his chin out, wears two huge dark circles under his eyes, and looks wistfully at the blackboard, losing all focus.  
Lydia, who is sitting next to him, finally says, “Stiles, you look like the girl who went to the bar at night and got drugged and raped.”  
Stiles runs his fingers through his short, untidy hair and automatically filters out Lydia’s biting taunts, and whispers, “If…you’re not sure what you think about something, what do you do?”  
Lydia frowns at Stiles as if he has asked such a literary question that she has always expected of him. She spins the pen in her hand and answers, “Recite Euclid’s five axioms, then recall one of the questions in the book of Euclid’s Elements, self-justification with five axioms, and then quickly go back to the thing that bothers me and the first thought that pops up is the decision that I really want.”  
Stiles looks at the math leprechaun and mumbles, “Wow, that’s impressive.”  
Lydia glances at him, begins dosing the test tube with poise.  
“It may sound useful.” Stiles thinks to himself in silence. He is not as keen on mathematics as Lydia and is not confident he can recall any of the propositions in Euclid’s Elements, but he can recite Euclidean theorem anyway.  
So Stiles begins to recite quietly, intently, and then he closes his eyes and immediately begins to think about the problem that has kept him awake all night.  
He wants to meet with Derek. He’s going to find Derek. He wants to talk about the baby with Derek, face-to-face.  
Stiles nuzzles himself to his feet.  
“Mr. Stilinski?” The teacher warns, raising an eyebrow.  
Stiles straightens his neck, “Infirmary! I don’t…feel good!”  
Stiles’ naturally pale complexion is confusing. The teacher looks at his worse appearance after staying up late and waves.  
Stiles trots down the hallway, recalling the school timetable when he helped Malia choose classes. His excellent memory enables him to quickly identify Malia’s classroom. Great, big classroom, lectures.  
Stiles slips in through the back door, and sure enough, his ex-girlfriend, who has no enthusiasm for studying, is sitting in the back row next to Kira. Although it is hard to admit that the scene of the two girls biting their ears against their shoulders is very touching.  
Stiles sits down next to Malia.  
“Stiles, you look like crap.” Malia sees him and says with a serious looking. But the look in her eyes betrays her frustration at being interrupted to flirt with Kira.  
“Ah, I’m fine, thank you.” Stiles rolls his eyes, “And nice to meet you, too.”  
Stiles can't help but wonder if he has masochistic tendencies, the girls he's had crushes on, all 70% demonic. Lydia's venomous tongue is a taunt with rhetorical skills, while Malia’s venom is direct and visceral----she really feels that way.  
Stiles can play dumb with his goddess Lydia (he can’t win anyway), but he can still fight back against Malia.  
Malia ignores his response, or maybe she doesn’t understand Stiles' little mood anyway, “What’s up? It’s still a week until the next full moon, you don’t have to come and tie me up.”  
Stiles realizes it is time for another full moon. Ah, one more thing to worry about.  
“This time I can look after Malia.” Says Kira, looking over her shoulder, shyly and questioningly at Stiles.  
Usually, Stiles will say to himself "Asian girls are so sweet”, but right now, Stiles doesn't have time to talk to girls, “Malia, do you... do you have a key to Derek's house?”  
Malia glances at him doubtfully, but pulls out a key, “Well,” she says, leaving it on the table, “Peter insisted on giving it to me, so take it.”  
As simple as Malia, she'll never ask further like what you want, and that personality comes as a huge relief to Stiles at this point.  
“Thank you.” Stiles grabs the key and sneaks out again.  
When his old jeep starts to go, Scott immediately notices it. He looks out the window and wishes him good luck.

When Stiles opens the heavy iron door of Derek's house, he feels a little guilty of trespassing.  
He sees Derek right away.  
Derek is lying on his side on the sofa, under a blanket, sleeping soundly.   
It does seem that wolfsbane has made him so weak that even the loud opening of the door doesn’t wake him.  
Stiles walks over and looks at him carefully.   
Derek is so pale, his lips are bloodied. But his eyelashes are really long and dense, which naturally bring out the beautiful curve.  
No, no, no. Why would I be impressed by that?  
Stiles shakes his head as if he is trying to shake the strange idea out of his head.  
The sun is streaming in through the large picture window, and Derek's thick black hair, eyelashes, a side of his face, and stubble are all warm and golden.   
Fluffy. Oh, damn it.   
Stiles reaches out his hand, unable to control himself, tries to touch Derek’s cheek.  
As his fingertips are about to touch the corner of Derek’s eye, Derek suddenly opens his eyes. The next second, the sky and earth are spinning round in front of Stiles’ eyes and he feels a sharp pain in the back of his head.  
Derek’s reflexes are so good that he reacts in the first instance with a counterattack to the potential danger. He throws Stiles over the sofa and locks his neck firmly.  
But he overestimates his ability to move now, and when he puts Stiles down on the couch, he throws himself down on him.  
Stiles is choking and blushing. He is about to scream for help when he sees Derek fall on him. Unconsciously, he lifts his arms and takes Derek into his arms.  
Derek’s high nose hits Stiles’ cheekbone, causing Stiles to grin. And the feeling of a 6’2’’ man crashing into his chest, Stiles can only describe it as almost vomiting blood.  
But Stiles is glad to have his arms outstretched. One of his hands is on Derek’s sturdy back, the other one is just around his waist, the perfect place where the curve of the back of his wait collapses deeply.  
So Stiles the meat pad can’t help but show a little happy in his eyes.  
“... What are you doing here?” Derek looks at Stiles and braces himself as he asks questions.  
Stiles clutches Derek's forearm unconsciously, and as he stares back at him, his hand opens again.  
Derek gets up and moves away slowly. He sits down beside Stiles and asks, "What do you want to talk about?"  
Stiles jumps off the couch like a spring, covers the back of his head knocked on the armrest, and looks back at Derek, “Baby! Of course the baby! Er…that night, that night, it is an accident, no, no, I’m not trying to pass the buck, although it sounds like an ass trying to pass the buck… Oh, no, no, the baby, yes, we’re talking about the baby…”  
Derek looks down at Stiles, who is hovering about in front of him, and he presses his head against his forehead.  
"You... you want it, don't you? It's good. Well, it's not bad. I agree," Stiles says quickly. When he is nervous he will be like this, talking a lot but fragmentary, the words jump out quickly, “Ah, sounds too self-righteous, I mean, Ha, who doesn’t like baby…”  
“Stiles,” Derek finally calls him to stop, Stiles really makes him dizzy, “sit down!”  
Stiles promptly plopped down on the coffee table behind him, like a startled little animal.  
“What are you trying to say?” Derek asks.  
Stiles swallows and hesitates for a few seconds. “Derek, if you really want it, it’s gonna be a long, hard process. I mean, there’s nothing easy about having a baby,” he continued, licking his lips, “So I want to be a part of this process. Please don’t shut me out, okay?”  
“I think…we can be friends if you want,” Stiles says, opening his hands, “We can welcome it together…our baby.”  
Derek listens to him in silence.   
Stiles is forever like an A.D.H.D. Sufferer, blinking with his big, brownish black eyes, his vision never has a fixed point. His upper and lower eyelashes are both very long, which makes his eyes look very watery. And there are moving, red lips, and the pink tip of his tongue when he habitually licks his lips. The nervous, unstable look on his face makes him look like a nervous little hamster.   
“Sure.” Derek shrugs.  
“No, you listen to me. You think about it...” Stiles shakes his head and raises his arms. “Wait, you say yes?” Stiles opens his mouth in disbelief, “Oh, oh, that's nice. Thank you...”  
Stiles slowly lowers his voice, letting his voice fade into the air.  
Derek is staring at Stiles' red earlobes. This tall, thin, pale, puny high school boy, contrary to his apparent weakness, Stiles is strong, and through all his trials and tribulations, he remains pure goodness and unflinching courage. Like now, Stiles can always make responsible choices, like he’s done countless times, being a pillar of his team.  
Derek is also unable to explain what is happening to him by himself, even is still digesting the fact that the baby has arrived. Indeed Derek will never give up this baby. It’s his blood, his family, he will never give up his family. What Stiles says today, however rambling and childish, makes Derek feel safe and calm.  
"So... Are we cool?" Stiles cautiously reconfirms. When he sees Derek lifts an eyebrow, he stands up and rubs his hands together, “Cool, cool!”  
Stiles looks down and sees the blanket on the floor. He bends down to pick it up, after thinking for a while, he opens it up, takes a step towards Derek. Derek looks up coldly and gives him a warning look. So Stiles refolds the blanket and put it back in Derek’s hands.  
“Stiles,” Derek calls to Stiles as he turns, “the full moon is coming.”  
“Oh, yes.” Stiles looks back puzzled.  
“I think I need another dose of wolfsbane.”  
Stiles freezes, saying in a low voice, "Okay, I'll talk to Deaton."  
"Also, wolfsbane weakens my will," Derek says, looking down at the palms of his hands, “I may need a chain as well.”  
Stiles is quiet for a lot longer this time. He clenches his fist. “I see. I’ll come and look after you.”  
“I don’t need…”  
“Oh, Derek, you say sure.” Stiles waves his hand, swinging back to the door as he speaks.  
“See you next time!” Stiles leans back against the door, reaches behind and pulls the door open. He continues to move out in a backward position.  
Derek shakes his head and actually wants to smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"I can go with you," Scott suggests, "In case something happens... "  
“Two wolfsbane shots in a row. I don’t think any werewolf can break a chain.” Stiles talks to Scott while packing his backpack. “And you’re babysitting your wolf cub, aren’t you?”  
"Liam... He's getting better. I could use Kira's help..." Scott touches his nose.   
“Kira is going to be with Malia,” Stiles shrugs, “Besides, would you trust Liam if you don’t take care of him yourself?”  
Scott rubs his neck playing dumb.  
"Hey, do you think it's weird that our ex-girlfriends end up together?" Stiles zips up his backpack and rubs his chin thoughtfully.  
Scott puts his hands in his jacket pocket, raises an eyebrow, and says, "I don't think it's as weird as you and Derek hooking up."   
“Ah, you get a point.” Stiles rolls his eyes.  
"Kids, you home early today? '' Sheriff Stilinskii knocks on his son's open door.  
He sees Stiles' bulging backpack and says, "Oh, it’s a full moon. It’s another tough night, isn't it?”  
Scott and Stiles both smile ruefully and nods.  
"I hope no more animal attacks or teen streaking are reported to the station tonight," says the sheriff, holding the door open and smiling, “Good luck, boys.”  
Stiles opens his hands at his dad expressing his dissatisfaction to the sarcasm.

When Stiles gets to Derek's house, there's still no sign of Peter. Of course, with Peter's annoying personality, Stiles doesn't care where he disappeared to, probably howling at the moon.  
Derek is watching a baseball game, selectively ignoring the fact that Stiles has a key to his house.   
The sun is just setting outside, Stiles puts down his heavy backpack and lifts the take-out, “Did you have dinner? I bring lasagna.”  
Derek slightly frowns, "I don't want to eat."  
“You look terrible.” Stiles looks around at the empty living room, narrowing his eyes in disbelief, “Haven’t you eaten anything in days?”  
"Get that thing out of my face." Derek looks at Stiles and shrinks back in disgust at the back of the couch.   
"No one turns down the Millers' Lasagna!" Stiles opens the box, “Seriously, no one!”  
Derek holds his hand over his mouth as the smell of the sauce wafts out. His shoulders stiffen for a moment, then he quickly tugs at the trash can next to him and vomits.  
Stiles freezes for a second. “Uh-oh, you… you okay?”  
Derek is puking his guts out, jabbing hard at the direction of the takeout box with his fingers up.   
Stiles quickly covers the box, steps back, runs to the window, rounds his arms and throws the whole bag out. His irresistible lasagna gives a nice arc and disappears across the street.  
“This is…?” Stiles hands the tissue to Derek.  
Derek pushes the trash can away, “My body is still trying to heal itself.” He says weakly.  
Stiles raises an eyebrow and blurts, ”Or it’s called a pregnancy reaction?”  
Derek stuns for a moment then glares at Stiles furiously.  
Stiles licks his lips and makes a soothing gesture. “Uh… No, I mean, you need, oh no, I need dinner. Can I use your kitchen?”  
He smiles and backs away, “I can make soup. Quick!”  
As the wolfsbane doesn’t wear off, and as the vomiting wears on, Derek loses one last ounce of his strength, and he doesn’t want to argue with Stiles again, so he lets him go into the kitchen.  
Stiles searches the fridge and is dismayed to find nothing promising. But fortunately, the two werewolves who live here don’t hunt rabbits in the jungle for food, Stiles manages to make a sandwich out of leftover toast and eggs and heats up some milk.  
“Everything okay?” Stiles gets a text from Scott.   
He glances at Derek, who is eating slowly, and quickly replies. “Fine.”

It was quite dark now, and the moon, hidden behind the thick clouds, is not yet visible.   
Derek rolls his palms. "It's time," he said, inhaling slowly and deeply as if trying to control something.  
Stiles is familiar with the behavior. When Scott first became a werewolf, he often sees similar reactions. It is their blood-thirsty desire boiling, their surging power in an attempt to break through the shackles of reason.  
Stiles takes out from his bag a small box made of mountain ash, containing a small solution of wolfsbane.  
Seems to understand Stiles' fear of medical devices, Derek reaches for a syringe and injects Wolfsbane into his forearm.  
Stiles swallows. "... How do you feel?"  
Derek looks up at him. "Terrible."  
Stiles pulls a small part of the chain from his bag and grins, “…Shall we?”

When the wind blows through the clouds, the moon is finally able to shed its light on the earth. A nearly opalescent moon, standard, full circle.  
Full moon.  
Derek is already struggling to get up because of Wolfsbane's power.  
Stiles chooses the thickest pole in the living room, and Derek sits on the floor, inhaling hard as he leans against it.   
Stiles is an expert at tying people up, Scott, Malia, Liam, Stiles thinks he's a master at werewolf bondage.  
But as the chain wraps around Derek’s broad shoulders and wraps around his thick, slightly undulating chest, Stiles can sense something wrong, something, uh, erotic. It’s like some bad porn scene.  
As his hands pass past Derek’s abdomen, Stiles stops. There’s a baby in there. A fragile little creature.  
“Stiles.” Derek notices Stiles’ trance and reminds him of the time.  
“Oh.” Stiles avoids Derek’s belly, securing the chain to the post.  
“…You better stay away from me.” Says Derek, looking down, squeezing a sentence out of his teeth.  
Stiles laughs, “Well, I don’t think…”  
He shuts up in the middle of his speech because he hears the screeching of Derek’s dewclaws across the floor.  
“Derek?” Stiles takes a step back.  
Derek’s shoulders tremble slightly, and he keeps his head down and scratches the ground with both hands.  
Stiles reaches out a worried hand to tap him on the shoulder. Before he touches him, Derek raises his head sharply and snarls at him.  
Stiles is so scared that he sits down on the floor.  
Derek’s eyes turn bright blue, flashing horrible desire to attack. His face is covered with thick animal hair, and his sharp tusks shine when he roars. He wriggles his shoulders, trying to free himself from the chain, and the metal against the pillars makes a loud, clear sound.  
Stiles takes a few deep breaths, covering his mouth. He is worried that Derek will hurt himself with violent action. “Derek, calm down! Concentrate and think about what your anchor is!”  
Derek responds to his suggestion by yelling even louder. He is tearing at the chain on his chest, furious and angry. Wolfsbane courses through his bloodstream, increased werewolf power means increased toxicity of wolfsbane, which stops Derek’s heart from beating, preventing him from inhaling freely.  
Stiles knows he needs to calm Derek down as soon as possible, even though right now, all Derek wants is to rip his throat out with his teeth.  
“Sh… Derek,” Stiles reaches out and tries again, which makes him feel like an animal trainer, “Sh…”  
Obviously, the soothing effect is not very good, Derek still wriggling in vain, breathing in animal noises from his throat, and he is beginning to feel the pain of the poison of wolfsbane. Stiles sees the sweat running down his face, his neck wet, his T-shirt shimmered in water.  
Stiles gulps a mouthful of saliva right away.   
Oh, my God, he thinks that Werewolf Derek is hot.  
Because of Derek’s struggle, the chain goes through Derek’s muscles, and there are dark red bruises on the skin nearby. Sweat runs through every inch of his skin, like some kind of enamel in the cool moonlight.  
Oh, this is not good. Stiles feels an unfamiliar rush of desire creeping up from his stomach, burning his chest and numbing his fingers.  
Stiles’ hands finally reach Derek’s shoulders.  
As Derek roars at him again, Stiles holds Derek’s cheek. He holds Derek’s head firmly against the post and kisses him.  
Stiles feels the prick and tastes his own blood when Derek’s fang slides across his tongue. He doesn’t wince, sucking hard on Derek’s upper lip.  
Stiles can’t see the look on Derek’s face at his moment because he closed his eyes tightly. There is a scarlet color in front of him, just like his boiling brain at this moment.  
He remembers squeezing Derek's jaw hard, forcing him to open his mouth and chasing his tongue. At some point, perhaps in Stiles’ own hallucination, Derek’s fangs disappear, and the man gently nibbles at his lower lips in response.

Stiles is awakened by the heat of the sun on his eyelids.  
Unconsciously, he puts his hand over his eyes and twists his neck, feeling as if he is lying on something soft. When he fully opens his eyes, he sees a piece of grey cloth. That’s Derek’s shirt.  
His head is on Derek’s lap.  
Stiles holds his breath immediately. His face is pointing straight at Derek’s abdomen. The smell of Derek’s remaining sweat combined with his own scent, the smell of leather and woods, surrounds Stiles. Stiles looks up carefully. Derek’s head hangs limp. From the steady breathing, it looks like he’s asleep.   
Stiles stealthily raises a hand, backs off his head, and covers Derek's abdomen with his palms. It’s so flat, you can even feel the hard muscles.  
That is close. And there's this little guy, and he's gonna have these beautiful hazel eyes like Derek, and, uh, maybe lips like mine, and my lips are still pretty. That’s what Stiles is thinking, rambling.  
Stiles gets up right away, unchains Derek, and wraps him in a blanket. Derek isn’t awake at all, just his eyelashes quivering as Stiles straightens his head. The werewolf’s good self-healing ability prevents the chain from leaving a trace on Derek’s skin.  
Stiles rubs dust from his arms softly and stares dreamily at Derek’s sleeping face.  
The first European theorem... Stiles recites it again in his head.   
And… I like Derek.  
Oh my God, I love Derek.  
Stiles is acutely aware of this fact.   
And he and Derek are gonna have a baby.  
That’s… that’s a good start?  
Stiles starts giggling.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
"I mean, it happens to everyone, more or less, that find people of the same sex attractive?” Stiles leans down and talks to Scott, “For example, beautiful biceps and abs, thick black hair and yellow-green-blue eyes, and a really nice beard, I can’t grow a beard at all…”  
“Do you mean Derek?” Scott interrupts in a dry tone.  
Stiles freezes, touching his neck and pulling away, “Uh… am I being too specific?”  
Scott nods, “Well, very specific.”  
“Plus, you smell like Derek,” Scott says, squinting at him, “That means your skin has been in contact for at least three hours…”  
“Shut up.” Stiles’ face is a little hot, he pushes his friend and pulls his shirt over his chest to smell, nothing of course, except the sour smell of a night without a bath.  
“So… Derek?” Scott is not going to let Stiles go this time, pulling up one corner of his mouth and showing a wry grin.  
Stiles coughs and licks his lips. “Seriously, what do you think… should I do?”  
Scott thinks about it for a while but is clearly baffles. He frowns, “Er…coffee…or something?”  
Stiles rolls his eyes.  
Indeed, Derek, who knows what is the right way to woo a big bad wolf who always looks like a killer.  
“Mr.Stilinski, Mr.McCall,” the teacher holds up the podium to cast intolerance looks at them, “Do you want me to get you a room?”  
Stiles and Scott look at each other, low their heads obediently.

Stiles is hunched over a couch with a laptop on his knee.  
He gropes for coffee on the table, gulps it down, and continues to scroll down the page.  
Why is there so much information about pregnancy! He hasn't even seen the stage of raising the baby yet!  
The Wolf's gestation period is only two months, but Derek's has been pregnant for nearly three months, so it looks like a werewolf pregnancy is more human. Stiles feels compelled to learn something about it because he doesn’t think Derek would know anything about pregnancy.  
Stiles copies another piece of text into the document, and the printer at the other end has spat out several sheets of paper in dense type.  
“Stiles?” Asks the sheriff, turning on the living room light and seeing his son still up, “why haven’t you gone to bed yet?”  
"Dad!" Stiles snaps his computer shut and says hurriedly. "Aren't you on duty?"  
Stiles begins to regret the decision to look up information in the living room because the WIFI signal downstairs is better.  
"It's the wee hours. My shift's over." Sheriff grabs a beer from the fridge, “You're not snooping through my database again, are you? “  
“Of course not!” Stiles stands up and picks up the paper scattered on the floor, “I’m doing my homework. I’m done. I’m going to bed…”  
That's when the printer spits out another one.  
The Sheriff gets close, goes right over and pulls the paper out.  
Stiles reaches up into the air and mutters “Shit” to himself.  
"What are you checking these for?" Sheriff holds the paper questioningly.  
“School project!” Stiles immediately replies, “Biology, yes, biology paper.”  
“ ’Werewolf reproduction’ in bold letters and a question mark?” Sheriff reads one of the lines and looks at him with raised eyebrows.  
“Uh…” Stiles rolls his eyes, “ It’s because…”  
The sheriff steps forward to block Stiles’ escape to the bedroom, pushes him back against the couch by the shoulders, and holds the table lamp up to Stiles’ face. “I'm a sheriff. I know when someone's lying, son.”  
Stiles thinks he's gonna get blinded by a lamp. Oh, that's too bad. His dad's doing the interrogation room thing.  
“Tell me, did you knock up a girl,” the sheriff says, reasoning criminal facts with evidence, “You know who I'm talking about----Malia!”  
“No, no, no...” Stiles shakes his head in emphatic denial, “I really don’t, I swear!”  
The sheriff looks at him for a long time, and slowly puts the lamp back, “Really?”  
“It's true!” Stiles repeats.  
Sheriff Stilinski shrugs. “Oh, well, I’ll just say, Malia is a nice girl. And, uh, I like her a lot, and I’m sorry things didn’t work out…”  
“Dad!”  
“All right, all right, none of this personal stuff, I get it,” said the sheriff, shaking his hands gently as he hands the paper back to Stiles, “It's just, I feel like you've been a little…distracted lately...”  
The sheriff sits down across from Stiles. “I know. These things can be really annoying sometimes,” he says, fiddling with his beer can, “I'm proud of you, son. I mean, you're handling this shit pretty well, you and Scott both,” he pauses, looking kindly at Stiles, “It's just, I worry about you sometimes, and in all of these situations, it's hard to be a normal human being, and I really hope you do something stupid like other teenagers, and have stupid, great relationships, and I hope you're happy, son.”  
Stiles, calm down. You really have a great dad. He's always so busy, but he's always looking out for you. He does it all the time, coming home from work, drinking, talking to you. You two have no secrets from each other, oh, except for the little lies about truancy and peeking in on his cases.  
“All right, go to sleep, son.” Sheriff Stilinski finishes the rest of the drink and pats Stiles on the back.  
Stiles touches his nose and says, "Actually, Dad, I did, uh, knock somebody up."  
He grimaces as he quotes the sheriff, which does sound worse.  
The sheriff stares at him wide-eyed, and after a few seconds begins to question him,"... Who is it? !"  
Stiles opens his hands. "Um... Derek? "  
"Derek? Derek who? You know, Derek doesn't sound like a girl's name, " Sheriff stands up, looking complicated. “What the fuck! Derek Hale?”  
“Bingo.” Stiles tries to give an innocent smile to his father.  
Sheriff Stilinski flattens the beer can in his hand.

Deaton's clinic is crowded with visitors.  
Derek is the only one in the chair. He stares at his fingers in silence.  
Stiles peers at Derek, while Scott looks at the label with a blank look in his eyes.  
The source of all this embarrassment, Sheriff Stilinski, arms folded, stands by the back door, staring blankly at the ceiling.  
Only Deaton stands in the middle of the room, opening the file in his hand.  
“So here's what I'm explaining,” He says, clearing his throat. “When Jennifer came back from the dead, according to her personality, she had prepared a spell to be born again.” He says, pulling out a photocopy of a pile of Latin words and drawings, “This spell parasitizes a powerful creature and upon activating it takes this creature’s power to complete her rebirth.”  
"It takes a lot of strength, like, a Werewolf," he says slowly as he looks over at Derek. “An Alpha. A close Alpha, close enough to sleep with her.”  
Derek glances up at him, his face sullen.  
Stiles puts his hand to his mouth and gasps. Jennifer, no one here wants to recall this nemesis, the dark druid who sacrificed a dozen people and nearly killed his father and Scott’s mother. A.K.A, Derek’s ex-girlfriend.  
“Later we all know that,” Deaton shrugs, “thanks to Peter, she didn’t have time to start the spell.”  
Stiles rolls his eyes.  
“Originally, when Derek lost his Alpha power, the spell would slowly wear out over time, but when some other force, the, uh, Nogitsune, activates the spell again at this particular time of a full moon…” Deaton feels embarrassed, he tries to tell this part vaguely.  
The sheriff shifts his position in the back and stares at Stiles.  
Stiles blocks dad's view with his hand, wiggling his waist to get behind Scott.  
Derek catches sight of his movements and braces his Chin for a sepulchral glance.  
“The spell itself means life in Latin,” Deaton points to the longest word on the copy, “so by mistake, oops.”  
The others look at him accusingly with "seriously?".  
Deaton puts down the file, apologizing for his inappropriate humor. “Anyway, I think that's the most reasonable explanation.”  
“And, in accordance with the laws of the spell, the baby will gradually absorb Derek’s werewolf power to ensure his own safe birth,” Deaton says gathering up his papers, “Oh, don’t worry too much. The baby isn’t going to have the same crazy idea about killing all of us for revenge, and by the time it’s born, Derek, you’ll probably have your power back.”  
"Oh, so the good news is Derek doesn't need wolfsbane anymore?" Stiles raises his hand.  
"Ah, but during that time, will Derek become human?" Scott interjects, “Well…that’s probably not good news.”  
Stiles opens his mouth and looks at Derek nervously.  
Derek is silent for a moment. "How long?" He asks.  
"I mean... How long does it stay? " Derek points to his belly, then awkwardly withdraws his fingers and clenches them into fists.  
"Well... It depends... " Deaton taps his forehead.  
“On whether the baby is a werewolf or a human?” The sheriff comes over and finishes Deaton’s sentence.  
The room quickly quiets down.  
"And how will it be born?" as if the atmosphere isn’t stiff enough, the sheriff asks more pointed questions than before.  
Derek puts his hand imperceptibly on his belly and tilts his head.  
Deaton says, "Well, that's the question. I think we need a doctor more, don't we? "  
Stiles and the sheriff are silent for a moment, then turn their heads to Scott.  
Scott points to himself after receiving two glances, showing an expression of “don’t get it”. Stiles waves his hands hard and stares at him.  
"Oh! Oh... No! " Scott finally understands and shakes his head in horror.

“Wait…” Melissa wags her finger at her son, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “Are you serious? You mean…uh, Derek? The Derek I think?”  
Scott nods,” Yeah, so…”  
“Wait…” Melissa continues interrupting, dropping her chart and leaning her elbows on the table, “Oh my…”  
“You guys actually never give me a break…” She shakes her head and murmurs desperately.  
“Mom, so…”  
“Wait!” Again she looks up and presses her son’s shoulders suddenly, “So, isn’t the sexual distinction of werewolves the way I think it is? Scott, oh my God, then you…”  
“Mom! It’s not what you think!” Scott is going to be driven crazy by his mother’s wild-eyed imagination. “Derek is an exception. It’s complicated. We need you…”  
"Oh, son, I thought we were in a situation where, you know, with all this supernatural crap, we don't have to talk about the most basic teenage stuff anymore, and I can't believe it,” Melissa continues, clutching his son’s shoulders, “You know, safe sex…”  
“Come on!” Scott holds his head almost breakdown.  
"... Ha, I know, I'll take care of it." Melissa finally stops teasing her son, pats him on the shoulder with a smile, holds the chart back to her chest, and turns breezes out to make the rounds of the wards.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Peter's not back yet?" Stiles, asks Derek, opening the car door and getting in.  
"No idea." Derek shakes his head.  
Derek's missing uncle also took Derek's sports car, so Stiles recently becomes Derek's driver.  
When he sits down, Derek frowns and pulls a cushion from behind. "What the fuck is this for?"  
Stiles shrugs and stutters. "Well...you know...I'm just trying to make my old car comfortable.”  
By the time they get to the hospital, Melissa is waiting at the door.  
Given the intimate nature of today's visit, neither Scott nor anyone else shows up, so Stiles feels his lifelong awkwardness when he meets Melissa’s warm smile on her face.  
Stiles locks the door and leans back against the panel, unsure what to do next.  
"You can sit down and relax," Melissa says, pulling on her gloves and lifting her chin toward the chair.  
Derek is already lying in bed, staring stiffly at the ceiling and refusing to make eye contact with the other two people in the room.  
"All right, let's take a look," Melissa says, holding the probe toward Derek. "Your T-shirt?” She makes an upward flick.  
It takes Derek a while to figure it out then he pulls his shirt up to reveal his ripped abs.  
AH, Derek's best-looking parts. Stiles already steps up and stands still. Lydia once said that she was willing to pay big bucks for Derek's abs because they were perfect.  
Slowly, however, it would be propped up by the bulging lines because of the baby. Oh, Lydia’s gonna kill me.  
Stiles begins his random thoughts routine and he can’t control his racing thoughts.  
And Melissa's gentle, almost sweet smile makes the atmosphere in the room even weirder. Stiles even feels she is enjoying the moment of observing Derek’s figure.  
"Oh, I found it," Melissa says with a smile as she shifts the camera around on Derek's lower belly.  
The screen is overcast. Stiles leans over and asks, "Where is it? Why can't I see anything?"  
Melissa shows him.  
Stiles stares at the white blurred image, still unable to make out much, but his excitement has taken over. “Oh, my God, Derek, did you see that? That’s the baby! Look at that!”  
Without pausing, Stiles looks back at him and Derek is staring at him in slight irritation.  
Stiles, without knowing why, spreads out. "Aren't you excited?"  
Derek takes a deep breath and gasps, "Move! Stiles! Move! "  
Stiles realizes he's blocking the screen and apologizes.  
Derek looks at it for a long time, his face at first shocked, then deep and complicated.  
"How is it?" Derek asks, still looking at the screen.  
Melissa reads the data, "Looking good, just like a normal 11-week-old fetus."  
"You mean like... a normal human fetus?" Stiles asks cautiously.  
Melissa shrugs. "Ha, sorry, I've never seen a werewolf fetus."  
“How to tell?” Stiles scratches his neck, “I mean, don’t you have, like, furry wolf hair or something when you’re a baby?” he looks at Derek and asks curiously.  
Derek gives him a sidelong glance. "You can't tell now," he continues, “A newborn werewolf has a layer of hair that falls off after a week, just like a normal human at other time, except when it grows out teeth.”  
"But your blood test isn't the same," Melissa said as she looks at the test sheet, "What's the gestation period for a Werewolf?"  
“About 30 weeks,” Derek replied.  
"Oh, it's shorter than human," Melissa says, tapping her pen on the table, “It looks like this baby will be born a little earlier, too. Maybe later we can get more accurate data.”  
"Anyway, all I can say now is that everything's fine," Melissa says, putting everything neatly in the briefcase and handing it to Stiles. “Can I sneak in a picture of your baby?” She says, giving Stiles a sly wink.

Once again, Stiles' jeep is parked outside Derek's house.  
"... Goodbye, Derek." Stiles wants to put his forearms behind the wheel in a cool way and say goodbye like he's sending his date home. But as soon as he and Derek look at each other, he can't even speak. He almost honks.  
Derek opens the door and turns back halfway. He looks at Stiles. "Stiles... do you want this child to be human?"  
Stiles opens his eyes a little wider then blinks a few times. He can’t answer. Does he want his child, his and Derek’s child, to be a normal human being, not a shapeshifter who turns into a bloodthirsty beast at the full moon?  
Stiles can't hide much within those shiny black eyes. Derek looks away when he saw the hesitation inside.  
Stiles senses Derek’s evasion and realizes he’s probably screwed up again. He's about to say something but he hears a shout coming from a distance.  
“Hey, how is it going, you two lovebirds!” Peter stands on Derek’s broad balcony, waving falsely to the two men downstairs.  
Derek walks into the living room. "Where have you been?"  
Peter is walking back from the balcony, strolling to the fridge, “Road trip, to relax,” he says, bending over to retrieve a beer from the fridge. He put it under his armpit, “Oh,” he takes out another box of juice and throws it to Derek.  
Derek reaches up to catch it, unscrews the lid and takes a drink. Stiles gets everything in the fridge, and actually, a while ago, he filled it with all kinds of vegetable and fruit juice. And after a few days of observation, Stiles leaves the flavors that Derek likes and cats out others.  
"You know, there's been a lot going on lately," he says, leans on the fridge and peering pointedly at Derek’s belly.  
Derek ignores the small discontent in his tone and lets out a little snort.  
"Oh, traveling is such a great way to get rid of your worries," Peter says with open arms and a smile, "I'm serious, you should join me, my dear nephew, on the trip, oh no, we should even leave here, far away! Take Malia with us, don’t worry, I’m always persuasive, she’ll go with me the good dad, we can go to Cora, yeah, South America, sounds great!”  
“Well, not interested, "Derek interrupts impatiently.  
"Derek," he says, pausing from his impassioned speech and raising his eyebrows with a drink of beer, "What are you still doing here? There's no longer any reason to stay in Beacon Hill, is there?” he pauses, pretends to be surprised and says, “Oh, is that little fart with rough hair and a messy mind?”  
Derek notices that Peter is particularly noisy today, and the words seem to have double meanings. He walks unhappily towards him for a few steps and is about to open his mouth when he feels a sudden dizziness.  
"Peter!" Derek holds onto the back of the couch. "What the hell did you put in the drink?"  
"Oh, you don't want to know," Peter says, looking at him with a grim smile.  
Derek is about to take a furious step when his lower abdomen tightens and a sharp pain shots up.  
Peter notices his hand resting on his belly and puts the bottle on top of the fridge. "Wow, this stuff really works that fast... "  
Before he can finish, Derek, who has rushed up, presses him heavily against the wall and the pain of such a break comes immediately from his shoulder blades.  
"... I think you’d better not do anything drastic right now..." Peter‘s throat is pinned by Derek’s forearm, and he continues, with little difficulty and without fear of death, “…only making the process more painful…”  
"What the hell are you doing?" Derek's unpleasant anticipation grows stronger and stronger, and the rapid escalation of pain makes him frightened and angry.  
"Like I said," Peter laughs petulantly, "I can be very persuasive."  
Derek's anger finally breaks down, he doesn't hesitate to punch Peter in the face.  
Peter looks at Derek's bright blue eyes and wipes the bloody corner of his mouth. "Oh, Derek, you'll never listen to me..." He arches his back, his eyes shot up the same blue light, and holds Derek’s chest against the wall.  
"This child is a mistake! He shouldn't exist! What a weak, low creature is human!" Peter's voice cracks like a wild beast. Torn from his easy mask, he stares at Derek angrily. “Think about it, Derek! This little thing is a disgrace to our family!”  
Derek cocks his head and snorts sharply. Thanks to Peter's restraints and the support of the wall behind him, he doesn't curl up in pain.  
"Peter..." Derek sneers, “Werewolf, Nogitsune, and dark druid’s spell, this child can’t possibly be human, you know!”  
"...You're afraid, you're afraid it may threaten you, because you're the oldest and the most powerful werewolf in the Hale family now, because you've never given up on your ambition to be Alpha!"  
"Shut up!" Peter's eyes lit up.

"Hey, Derek, I forgot to give you the picture!" Suddenly the iron gate is pulled open, and Stiles rushes in happily, pausing the next second.  
Derek's paw is tearing bright red blood marks on Peter's chest and he presses Peter's chest and roars back at Stiles, “Stiles, RUN!”  
The werewolf Peter apparently does not intend to let go stiles, the witness and also the ringleader, and pulls Derek’s arm off and roars straight at Stiles.  
Stiles steps back quickly, ducking behind the metal door. Peter's wolf claws scratch across the iron door and give a frightening hiss. Stiles’ attempt to close the door is immediately stopped by a greater reverse force. The cold sweat runs down his back at the same time.  
Derek catches up in time to clasp Peter's arms. The older Werewolf has greater speed and combat experience, plus Derek is in far worse state than he was in his prime, soon Peter is about to break free from the fight and strikes back when suddenly a suspicious electronic whine is heard, Peter’s grip eases and he feebly falls to the ground twitching slightly.  
Stiles’ thin arm is stretched out from the crack of the door and in his hand, he holds a small defibrillator----the exact high-power version that improved by the Argent family. Werewolves are most vulnerable to electricity, it is the most common weapon used by hunters.  
After a few seconds, Stiles pops his head in, looks at Peter on the ground and sighs in relief, “Oh my god, that’s close.”  
Derek leans against the wall, presses on his underbelly and tries to go back to his human form. The excruciating pain has robbed him of his consciousness and cut him like a knife through butter, twisting and turning.  
Stiles doesn't notice anything strange about Derek. His main intent is to reassure him that the threat is over. He crouches next to Peter and says, "Well, when you're surrounded by werewolves, you're not so naive as to run around with a baseball bat anymore.”  
The eccentric attitude of Peter when he left Deaton’s clinic with Derek that day makes Stiles uncomfortable, so he subconsciously arms himself.  
Peter is still conscious and stares angrily at Stiles.  
"Ah, let's be thorough," Stiles triumphantly takes the box made of mountain ash from his pocket and slowly injects Peter with all of the wolfsbane solution. Derek doesn't need the masochistic poison anymore, but Stiles doesn't mind having an extra weapon. And sure enough, it comes in handy.  
When Peter is out, Stiles stands up to show off to Derek, who is slowly sliding down the wall.  
“Derek?” Stiles runs over quickly. Derek is covered with cold sweat, arms wrapped around his belly, clenching his teeth and moaning.  
"You're in pain? God, why are you in so much pain? Did Peter Hurt you?" Stiles dares not touch him, covers his mouth and scans Derek in panic. "I... What should I do? Should I take you to Mellissa?”  
"No... Stiles..." Derek grabs his shoulder and presses harder, as if to ease the pain, “Go to Deaton’s…”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weekend is coming. So I put one more chapter today as I probably can't post in time tomorrow.

Chapter 7

“How did he eat the golden monkshood?” Deaton yells as he rummages through the cabinets. “This thing… you can’t find it anywhere!”  
"Peter, it's Peter, damn..." Stiles pins Derek on his shoulders and tries to stop him from struggling. “Oh my god, he looks terrible, Deaton!”  
“Of course it’s Peter!” Deaton quickly mixes the potion into the syringe with a look “I’ve had enough of it”.  
"Hold him down," Deaton says, lifting off Derek’s shirt and gently pressing his lower abdomen to find the right place.  
"What do you think I've been doing?!" Stiles yells anxiously.  
The blue light in Derek's eyes flickers spurs Derek to shapeshift, Stiles hardens his heart to swoop down and press on Derek’s upper body using his own weight. “Hey, Derek, it’s okay, okay…”  
Derek’s chin rests in Stiles’ shoulder socket, and the sweat on his cheek brushes against Stiles’ neck. It is cold. Stiles' heart thumps, panic fills his throat, and Stiles pulls his arm firmly back in place, pressing his cheek against the top of Derek's hair.  
Deaton pulls back the empty syringe and nervously watches Derek's reaction.  
Derek is gasping violently in Stiles’ arms, suddenly he pushes him away and throws up.  
"Thanks to god, it works," Deaton breathes a sigh of relief.  
"... Are you sure?" Stiles asks, incredulous as he watches Derek's gut-wrenching vomit.  
Deaton tosses Stiles a towel, pours a glass of water, and hands it to Derek when he is done.  
Stiles brushes the sweat on Derek's forehead and blood on his face as gently as he can. Derek's hand trembles as he reaches for the glass. Stiles can't watch it, grabs the glass and holds it up to Derek's mouth.  
Derek looks up at him. Stiles responds with a defiant stare, holding the glass firmly in his hand and pressing it hard against Derek's lips. Derek glares at him again before lowering his head to drink.  
“What is Golden monkshood?”  
"A variant of Wolfsbane, werewolf's abortifacient," Deaton says, collecting his own jars, “Pure-blood werewolves are extremely rare, their populations will treasure new pups so much that the plant is almost extinct, and god knows where Peter found it.”  
That will explain Peter's long absence.  
"But why would Peter..." Stiles asks Derek, puzzled.  
"He's crazy." Derek is obviously not interested in continuing the conversation, and his face is pale. He closes his eyes wearily and pushes the glass away from Stiles.  
Stiles is full of questions, winking at Deaton.  
Deaton looks purposefully away. "Er... I'll get pillows and cushions. He needs a good rest. " 

"Are you sure?" Scott presses the door of Allison’s basement to confirm again to Stiles.  
"I'm sure," Stiles nods. "I've got a lot to say to this old bastard."  
Scott shrugs. "All right, I'll be right outside the door."  
“No werewolf hearing!” Stiles warns his friends not to listen to the wall before he enters.  
Chris is still out there chasing Kate, and his house in Beacon Hill is empty, so he left a key for Scott to use in case they need it.  
So what they need now is the perfect cell for Peter.  
“Stiles.” Peter is kept in a cage surrounded by mountain ash and the cage is electrified. He is sitting on the floor, waving at Stiles.  
The bloodline of the Hale family is really outstanding, producing tall, leggy, pretty men and women with inexplicable charms, even this old man full of tricks.  
He sits there with one leg propped up, Derek’s paw prints and blood still on his chest. He looks up and smiles, unlike a prisoner at all.  
Stiles clasps his arms, squints up and down at Peter and struggles to stop himself from punching the face somewhat similar with Derek.  
"Seriously, Peter," Stiles opens his hand, "this time, it's just mean, even for you."  
"Oh, sorry," Peter says, pausing to point at his head and shrugs his shoulders. “You know, I’ve always had trouble with my self-control.”  
"Damn it, I'm supposed to torture you!" Stiles waves his fist in the air. He wishes to hold Derek in his palms every day, of course, if Derek allows him to, while Derek’s own uncle is trying to kill the newly formed little life in Derek’s belly.  
“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Stiles breathes deeply, scratches the back of his head, "You're messing up your family, your life! Isn't that right? Malia, you'll never get her approval, and Derek, Oh, God, I don't even want to talk about him...” And of course, there’s Laura, who he killed with his own hands.  
“Listen, I don't want to know your crazy theory of power supremacy,” Stiles frowns solemnly as he strains his chest to stare at Peter, “If you really can’t… Please leave, please. Out of here. Out of Beacon Hill. Out of Derek."  
Peter looks up at Stiles in some surprise.  
Stiles licks his lips, “I like Derek. I mean, I’m very, very… fond of Derek. I hope he never gets hurt, especially by his family.”  
Peter looks at the floor as if deep in thought.  
Stiles stares at him.  
“The golden monkshood, I found it the Aztec Temple.”  
"The temple?" Stiles grabs his hair in surprise. "How do you know there's... Oh God, please tell that’s not what I think…” Stiles holds his head in both hands and shakes his head at Peter in horror.  
Peter shrugs and whispers,"... Yes, Kate and I will contact each other occasionally."  
Stiles is speechless and he punches the air again. "Damn it, I knew I should have tortured you first!" 

Derek rolls over in a half-awake state, feeling his waist in the palm of a warm hand.  
"Woo, this isn't your big bed, " Stiles laughs. "It's a bit cramped, isn't it? "  
Derek remembers that he is sleeping on Deaton's clinic's couch. Stiles stops him before he rolls over and falls on the floor.  
"... Thank you." Derek stretches himself out on this little couch and doesn't feel comfortable all night, frowning at the pain in his lower back.  
"Are you still in pain?" Stiles clutches Derek's hand in a panic, “You still in pain?”  
“Stiles,” Derek has to calm him down. “No, I’m fine. I’m fine.”  
"Oh, oh, great," Stiles sits back in relief. His hand is still pressed against Derek’s, sweaty and tightly clenched.  
Derek looks down. "Stiles, I think I’m gonna use my hands later on."  
“Oh, sorry,” Stiles quickly retracts his hand, as if the back of Derek’s hand is on fire.  
Stiles hands the picture of the baby to Derek. "Now I can finally give you the baby’s first picture."  
"Thank God, if I hadn't come back to give you the picture…" Stiles wipes his face, having a lingering fear, “You’re all right. That’s great.”  
Stiles is sitting on the floor, so he is looking up at Derek, close up, a few tufts of hair bobbing around his head, the morning sunlight shining through his dark pupils.  
Derek glances at the blurred image in his hand, puts his hand gently on his belly, and whispers, ”Well, it’s a lucky one.”  
Stiles sees what Derek's doing, he calms down. Suddenly he straightens out his thinking. He licks his lips and carefully considers it before he begins to speak, “Derek, the last question you asked me in the car... I think I can answer that now. I didn't think about it at all. I mean, I don't care.”  
"Yeah, I don't care. I mean, when I found out about the baby, the only thing I knew was that it was my baby, and that was it. It may be human, it may be Werewolf, but for me, it means 'my child’," Stiles says with a shifty, flustered look at first but little by little he seems to grow more confident. "I think I'm going to love it very, very much. Oh, I’m going to spoil it!” Stiles says, rubbing his forehead slightly in shame and laughing.  
Derek is stunned for a moment, but then he seems relieved. Stiles loves this child. He loves this child unconditionally. He really should always have faith in Stiles, because Stiles never let him down.

"Stiles, this is so cool!" Scott pokes his head in, waving a piece of paper. “It looks amazing. You're right. We should make Christmas cards out of baby pictures!”  
“Stiles, how many photos did you print?” Derek raises an eyebrow and asks darkly. "And I think I am the last one to get it?”  
“Haha, you want breakfast? My pancakes are very well made!” Stiles stumbles to his feet and pushes Scott out the door with all his might.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Haven't you guys talked about this?" Scott talks to Stiles as he checked the net on his racquet.  
"Yes,” Stiles just puts on his jersey and his hair is all messed up. "I don't want to... I mean, Peter's gone, that's a good thing, right? "  
Scott raises an eyebrow noncommittally, bends down and starts wearing pads. "What about the part about Kate?"  
Stiles kneels down next to him and puts on his shoes. "No...We talked about it with Deaton. She's being chased by hunters. She wouldn't come back to Beacon Hill even though she had contact with Peter..."  
Scott sighs. "I hope so."  
"So, you and Derek... How's it going? "  
Stiles punches Scott in the leg. "Why are you asking so many questions? We need to focus on the game!”  
Scott grins.  
"Boys! Are you ready! Tonight's game, of course, believes in the consistent principles of athletic sports---- We’re gonna fucking win!” The coach storms in, banging on the door and making his usual inflammatory remarks.  
"McCall!" The coach yells out Scott's last name as he makes the threatening gesture of slashing his neck.  
Scott, as captain, has to leave the interrogation of Stiles, steps in the middle and join the coach in morale stimulation.

The smell of rosin fills the air in the music room at Beacon Hill High School.  
Derek sits on the table, fascinated, looking at the girl in front of him, with her thick, curly, long brown hair. They sway slightly as her head tilts forward, and Derek's keen sense of smell makes him smell the faint but sweet smell of Shampoo.  
She's rocking to the beat, the beat of the cello song, the cello in her arms.  
"... You're not listening, Derek," she murmurs, looking up at him and smiling, her fingers still on the strings, the low music still flowing.  
Derek catches himself smiling, the sort of indulgent and proud smile. "Well, I am busy looking at my girl.”  
She raises her head and turns her face to Derek. Her eyes are shimmering in the dark, and the tear mark on the corner of her eye made her look beautiful and attractive.  
Derek reaches up and gives her a little kiss. Her Lips are soft. The music stops, her hair rubs against Derek's face, and she smells sweet.  
Derek reaches out and strokes her hair behind her ear, then pushes his palm closer to her slender neck.  
All of a sudden, Derek feels something wet on his hand. He opens his eyes subconsciously and looks at his hand. Blood-red liquid drips down his fingers and onto her skirt. Derek moves his fingers and feels the sticky liquid. She's got some in her hair, too. It's all tangled.  
The next moment Derek smells the smell of blood, and he withdraws his hand in horror.  
"What's wrong?" She looks at Derek, puzzled.  
"... You're bleeding...you're bleeding...Paige..."Derek flurries through her hair, searching for a wound.  
There is a deep paw print in her white neck under her ear, showing its veins and bones, and gurgling blood.  
"What's going on, Derek?" She keeps asking, seemingly without pain. She stares at him, her beautiful eyes black with emptiness.  
Derek tries to pull back, tries to push her away, but he can't move, and he can't help but put his fingers, one by one, into to the paw print, and they match perfectly.  
"Paige!" Derek opens his eyes.  
A dark, steel-belted ceiling comes into sight. The pictures on TV are shifting silently.  
Derek puts his hand in front of his face, human fingers, wet with sweat.  
Derek can hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart. The whole house is so quiet. Peter used to smoke and read on the balcony, and he would put his feet up on the banister and make these annoying sounds. But Peter's gone. He never brought up the subject with Stiles and he isn't looking into what Stiles and Peter have agreed.  
Derek feels lonely. The loneliness that has haunted him all his life. It peaked after the death of his family in a fire then improved upon Peter’s resurrection, and he has recently returned to this kind of loneliness.  
It's a sign. After so many years, he dreamt again of Paige, his first love, his first murder, the source of his blue eyes.  
Derek lets out a long sigh and sits up.  
He lowers his head and puts his hand over his belly. The musculature of it has faded away, and beneath the soft skin, he can feel the growth of a baby, taking up space, grabbing at his Werewolf power.  
"You little monster.” Derek sighs inwardly.  
Then he thinks of Stiles grabbing his wild hair with a nervous giggle.  
There's a lacrosse game tonight for Beacon Hill High School.

“Stilinski! What the hell are you doing?” The coach yells at Stiles angrily as he trips for the third time on the lawn.  
Scott pulls Stiles up and leans in, “Hmm…” he wrinkles his nose. “Stiles, I think I smell…”  
“What?” Stiles rubs his knee miserably.  
“Derek’s here.” Scott cranes his neck to look around.  
“What?” Stiles scans the auditorium but does not notice anything until Scott pulls him. He sees Derek standing in the dark with his hands in his pockets four or five meters away from the bleachers.  
"How can he wear so little! It's cold at night!" Stiles anxiously addresses Scott.  
Scott shakes his head in disbelief with an expression “That’s what you’re focusing on?”  
Derek shakes his head at him at the same time, evidently hearing him. He lets his eyes light up in the dark, the two faint blue lights flashes, and Derek reaches out two fingers to his eyes and then to Stiles.  
“You are being watched.” Scott laughs and taps Stiles on the shoulder.  
"Is he serious? God, I'm so nervous!" Stiles repositions himself and lungs at Scott, "and we're losing!”  
The referee blows the whistle and the match is in its final stages.  
As Stiles is pushed to the floor again, Derek can't help but laugh.  
But he also hits a player on the other side as he goes down, prompting Liam to intercept the ball and tie the game with a shot.  
The heat of the game immediately rises to a new level. Liam can’t control his werewolf power very well, after he hits two opposing players, Scott begins to worry. But someone is there to stop it from getting worse----Brett charging in and taking Liam down. There is a burst of boos and hisses outside the field.  
The ball goes right through Liam’s net.  
“Scott!” Stiles alerts.  
But Scott’s attention is now so focused on the fallen Liam that he veers off his position and moves to Liam’s side.  
Stiles has to run. Perhaps in a hurry, Stiles stumbles and kisses the ground before the other player can stop him.  
And the opposing player does not expect when someone can turn and stretch his hands in the air when he falls. To be precise, Stiles only waves his racquet in a panic, screaming and then accidentally, hits the ball on the edge of the racquet. The ball accurately, softly, falls into the opposing goal.  
It is a weak shot. No one sees it coming, so the opposing goalkeeper doesn't even try to defend.  
There are a few seconds of silence before the crowd let out a deafening whoop.  
Stiles realizes what's happening only after he hears the whistle. He is looking for Derek with the pain of the blow to his head----Derek has said a word to him, and Stiles reads the word ”Luck” from his sarcastic facial expressions and lip movements.  
The team rushes in to pick up Stiles, who is groggy. Stiles gets hugged and pushed around by a bunch of dudes. Then someone forcefully opens a “door” and rushes in. It is small, red-hair cheerleader----Lydia. Lydia grabs Stiles by the front of his jersey and hugs him fiercely.  
“Unbelievable, Stiles!” she yells, tearing Stiles' helmet off. And before Stiles can respond, she tiptoes up and kisses Stiles on the cheek. The players let out admiring hoots, a few boys jostle to Lydia for a kiss, and she sweeps back her long hair enchantingly. The queen rolls her eyes at them and runs back to the audience with a smile.  
Stiles keeps his mouth open for a while, but by the time he reaches the end of the bleachers, there is no sign of Derek.  
“Where is Derek?” Stiles yells at Scott.  
"I don't know!" Scott, standing between Brett and Liam to break up the fight, returns to Stiles, dragging Liam along with him to the team doctor.  
Stiles sighed exasperatedly, shoves his helmet and racquet in his teammate's arms, and runs out.  
“Derek!" Stiles screams as he runs.  
"Stop it," Derek says impatiently as he stands in front of the huge display case.  
"I thought you left." Stiles gasps over, "what are you looking at?"  
"You were terrible," Derek doesn't answer but mocks directly.  
"I'm the hero of the night!" Stiles retorts, then says sheepishly, "... in a way."  
Derek faces him and takes a step closer.  
Stiles takes a step backward conditionally.  
Then Derek is one step closer again.  
Stiles doesn't flinch this time, staring at Derek's handsome face which has become very close.  
Derek leans forward to bring them closer.  
Wait, is this... Should I close my eyes? I definitely should close my eyes? Stiles struggles wildly in his head. When he finally closes his eyes tightly, he notices that Derek’s finger is pressed against his cheekbone.  
Stiles opens his eyes questioningly. Derek rubs his cheek with great force, and Stiles frowns in pain. "Hey... "  
“Lipstick,” Derek says, giving him a cold look. “You look like an idiot.”  
Stiles grabs his wrist, “I can’t feel my left face!”  
Stiles' hand is hot, his short hair is sticky with sweat, and his white, young face is set off by his red jersey. Stiles, fresh and alive, stands in front of him, not the cold, bloody corpse of the girl in his dream.  
"Derek?" Stiles’ heart starts pounding as he notices that Derek lets himself hold his wrist.  
Derek gives him a subliminal glance. His eyes are a little confused, which makes him look inexplicably attractive.  
“Stiles!” The team members come out from behind in a crowd, “PATRY!”  
“I…” Stiles lets go of Derek, hesitantly turns to his teammates.  
“Good for you, still wearing this uniform! That’s the spirit, Stilinski!” The coach slams Stiles’ shoulder with his fist, “We’re gonna drink with our helmets tonight!”  
"Coach... I want to say... "  
“You should go.” Derek interrupts.  
Stiles is stunned and struggles to get out of the couch's arm, “Wait a minute, you…you should come too! Uh, do you want to join our party?”  
Derek raises an eyebrow and stares at him for a moment. "Okay."  
Stiles smirks as he is led out the door by his teammates with shoulder straps on his back. He doesn’t notice that Derek is standing behind the trophy, in the honor locker at Beacon High, with a picture of the winner of a student music competition. The girl at the front is holding the cello, smiling sweetly and demurely.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I laughed at the part that Stiles jumps on Derek's car.

Chapter 9

The Party takes place in Lydia's grandma’s log cabin, and of course, as the queen of parties in Beacon Hill, Lydia transforms the floating cottage into a well-lit nightclub.  
Stiles begins regretting his decision to invite Derek here when he sees three girls talking to him over drinks at the same time.  
"You know alcohol doesn't work on werewolves, right?" Derek whispers in Stiles' ear.  
“No way!” Stiles flatly refuses, “Absolutely not!” After the announcement, he stands in front of Derek and grabs each cup from the girls’ hands and pours the wine down his throat.  
"Hey, girls, why don't you talk to somebody else?" Stiles grabs the last girl's drink and shoves the girl away.  
Derek crosses his arms and watches with interest as Stiles clutches his throat and grimaces at the wine.  
“You, you stay right here,” Stiles blinks hard as if trying to suppress the strength of the wine, “…Cupcakes, yeah, you can eat cupcakes right here.” He shoves a plate of cupcakes to Derek.  
“Stiles!” Malia holds a camera asking Stiles to go over to take pictures. Behind her, the coach is trying to dance with a long pole lamp.  
“I’ll just leave for a minute!” Stiles drinks the wine in his hand and slaps the empty glass on the table.  
Derek shrugs and grins. "I'll just... eat the cupcake here "  
Stiles stumbles away.

The flashing lights, the deafening music, the teenagers dancing and kissing on the couch, Derek, to be honest, doesn't enjoy the atmosphere at all. But Derek would rather be here than in an apartment filled with a deathly silence, at least the noise is reassuring, the... the place with Stiles in it is reassuring.  
Lydia hands Stiles a drink and snaps a finger at him. "Hold it together, you look wasted."   
Stiles takes a swig of the liquid. "What is this? It's delicious. "   
"Oh, my God, it's Soda," Lydia rolls her eyes. "How many shots did you have?"  
Stiles smiles and holds up three fingers.   
"You are totally beyond drunk." Lydia sighs. "I hope the rest of our conversation goes well."   
"What do you want to talk about, Lydia?" Stiles asks her at the table, tongue in cheek.  
"Ok," Lydia nods, in a serious voice. "I know you're keeping something from me, from the others, and I totally understand, because it's a little hard for you to say. I mean, it's complicated, right..."   
"Woo, Lydia, you know?" Stiles jerks up in surprise. "How do you know? Scott told you?"   
"Oh, you told Scott?" Lydia nods. "Of course you tell Scott everything."  
"Listen, Stiles, this is a little bit awkward, but I want you to know that I completely accept it and this is not going to interfere with our relationship, and, Um, I would like to say I'm trying to be nicer with you,” Lydia continues, "Besides, it won't go unnoticed for long, and we should let the rest of the pack know…”  
"Oh, I'm so... touched, Lydia, you're so kind, thank you!" Stiles rubs his burning eyes because of the alcohol, "Actually, I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this. Derek and I are gonna have a baby…”  
"Wait, what did you just say?" Lydia freezes, with suspicion on the sentence she has just heard.   
"I'm just saying, Derek, he... oh, my God, somebody please turn the damn music down! There's an important conversation going on here! " Stiles yells at the stereo behind him.  
“Stiles, repeat it, I can’t hear you!” Lydia grabs Stiles by the sleeve and shouts in his ear.   
“I just said, this whole thing, that Derek’s pregnant!" Stiles yells back at Lydia drunkenly with a louder voice.  
But just a second ago, the music in the room was turned down. So Stiles' yell is loud and clear in the living room.  
Everyone is staring at Stiles surprisedly. Of course, the rest of the crowd take this to be drunken nonsense and then turn back to dancing and drinking. And people of the little group who know the subject Derek well, glassy-eyed, stare at Stiles for a long and dull time. Especially the one stands next to the stereo, Liam, whose finger is still on the volume key, looks panicky and guilty.  
Stiles scratches the back of his head, and although the alcohol slows down his thinking significantly, the expression of the people around him still makes him sense that maybe he and Lydia are not talking about the same thing.  
"Lydia... I'm sorry, what are you trying to say?" Stiles shakes his head, trying to stay calm.   
Lydia pauses for a moment and mutters, "I'm talking about...Your dad and my mom dating..."   
"What! They're dating?!" Stiles repeats in surprise, "No... Look, tomorrow, we'll talk. I have to…” he says, putting down his glass as he scans the room for Derek.  
Malia grabs him. "Stiles, I want you to explain to me how Derek... "  
"Scott! Ask Scott! He knows!" Stiles wrestles Malia's hand away and races into the crowd.  
The betrayed Scott covers his forehead silently.

“Derek, wait for me!” Stiles chases Derek as he runs across the wooden bridge. With no sign that he is stopping, Stiles calls out to him.   
"Derek, are you mad? Why are you...OMG! " Stiles screams as he is slapped onto the door of the car.  
"Why am I mad? Are you sure you need to ask that question?" Derek clutches Stiles' chest in his fist with a cold face and raises an eyebrow.  
"Oh, oh... I admit that was a bit awkward..." Stiles glances down nervously at Derek's fist, "but... it is a successful announcement, isn't it? I mean, the reaction wasn't too bad... "  
"We are going to have a new member of the pack, and we need to tell the whole pack, " Stiles continues, "Deaton told me, the cubs need to be recognized and blessed by the pack, which helps them blend in..."  
Stiles keeps talking when he notices a flicker in Derek’s eyes. “Wait, Derek,” he grabs Derek’s hand, “and you still think you don’t belong to Scott’s pack until now?”  
Derek is silent, his eyes deep in the night.  
"You really think so?" Stiles grows a little angry and worried. "Who do you think is on your team? Just Peter? "  
Am I…a member of Scott's pack?  
Derek can't answer that question right now. Because ever since he came to Beacon Hill, he has tended to be more solitary. He’s more of a “borderline Scott guy” and there seems to be something unspeakable that prevents him from fully fitting in.  
Derek pulls up Stiles without a word and opens the driver's side door and slid into the car.  
"Hey! You... you can't leave!" Stiles puts his hand out in front of Derek's car. He thinks for a moment, as if he hasn’t done enough, and with a little run-up he jumps on the hood of the car and lies prone on the windshield like a giant gecko.  
“Get down, Stiles!” Derek smashes the windshield in anger.  
Stiles’ cheek is pressed flat against the glass. “No, not until you open the door!”  
Derek is so pissed off, he can’t even find the words. Little does he know that Stiles, when drunk, can be so thick-skinned as well as heaven-daring. For Stiles’ unreasonableness, Derek grips the steering wheel and suppress his anger, finally unlocks the door.  
Hearing the unlocking sound, Stiles stares at Derek, slides out defensively, jumps off the car and open the door with great speed, sliding into the passage seat beside him.  
"... What the hell are you doing?" Derek takes a deep breath and squeezes the sentence between his teeth.  
Stiles looks at him, shaking his leg. "I'm warding you home. Drive."  
Derek gives Stiles the cold, hard look.  
Stiles, who used to be frightened out of his wits when receiving the classic “Death Glare”, shrinks his neck and buckles his seat belt firmly this time.  
“I have the co-ownership!” Stiles apparently is so drunk that he has lost his basic sense of danger. He raises his hand and points at Derek’s belly then grins.  
Derek can't take it anymore, so he guns the engine and drives off.  
Stiles bangs his head on the chair, making him grimace in pain.

"I've been drinking, and I can't drive, so I… I can't go back! " Stiles collapses on Derek's couch and satisfactorily finds a comfortable position to lie down.  
Derek’s fingers tighten around the glass as he is struggling to stop himself from splashing the water on Stiles’ face.  
"Suit yourself," Derek says, plopping the glass in front of him.   
"... Derek, you are so weird tonight..." Stiles is lying on the couch, looking up at Derek. His eyes are wet and innocent because of the alcohol. "Why did you come to the game? ... Can't sleep? "  
Derek freezes. Even drunk, Stiles can still pinpoint the load on his mind so accurately. It scares Derek a little. He doesn't know why Stiles is so perceptive. He seems to see through people's weaknesses all the time.   
"... It's okay, it's okay..." Stiles narrows his eyes slowly and grins "... I'm right here with you. So it’s okay.”  
Stiles rolls over, lies face down in the couch, sticks up his butt, and closes his eyes. He makes a couple of lip smacks unconsciously and rubs his face against the couch. Stiles sleeps like a 3-year-old, and of course, he wakes up with a sore neck and a cushion full of saliva.  
Derek shakes his head helplessly, sighing that he is thinking too much.   
He sits down with Stiles, picks up the blanket off the floor and throws it on Stiles.  
Stiles is already snoring slightly.   
His cheeks are pink. Because Stiles has very white skin, which makes the flush on his face particularly obvious and somewhat exaggerated and funny. But Derek suddenly feels the urge to kiss him. He wants to kiss Stiles, not while he's dominated by the bestiality of the werewolf, but when he's sober and sane enough to do so.   
Stiles' breathing and warmth seem to beat back the loneliness that filled the room into the farthest corners.   
Just like a savior.  
Derek wipes his forehead and hair with his palm then presses the center of his eyebrows and sighs softly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas with a sweet chapter.

Chapter 10

Stiles is horrified by the experience of waking up on Derek's couch, especially when his pained head shows how drunk he is.  
"I'm surprised he didn't wring your neck," Scott says.  
Stiles bites his fork, still wondering. Derek was acting really weird.   
Late-night Lacrosse Games, Lydia's raucous parties, it sounds like Derek's "list of things he would never do" in bold type.  
Still, Stiles is pleased with his decision to spend the night at Derek's house, at least the alcohol didn't cloud his instincts and the worry made him instinctively choose to stay with Derek.   
"Is it possible, then, that Derek actually likes you?" Scott mumbles, sucking in a strand of noodles. “In my opinion, that's a reasonable explanation for him to do so.”  
"Hmm? Derek likes..." Stiles’ face burns first. "No, no, no. Ha, How..."  
Scott shrugs. "Dude, honestly, aren't you going to try something a little more aggressive? By the time the baby’s born, it’s gonna be busier…”  
"Aggressive?" Stiles frowns. "That sounds evil..."  
“I’m talking about confession! Just speak your love out!” Scott puts down his fork and opens his hands.  
“Of course I will,” Stiles mutters.  
"Here, let me see," Scott sits up straight. "Think of me as Derek."  
Stiles looks at him disapprovingly.  
Scott straightens his back, pushes his chest out deliberately and drums his fingers on the table.  
"All right, all right," Stiles pushes his tray out of the way and closes his eyes for a moment to collect his emotions.  
"Derek..."  
“Be affectionate.”  
"Uh... Derek, I… Love… you..." Stiles tries to infuse every word with affection, making his every utterance sound greasy.  
Scott raises his eyebrows with subtle expression. Then he covers his mouth. "Oh, I think I'm going to be sick..."   
“Come on!” Stiles raises his hands in anger.  
Lydia, sitting at the next table, gets up and walks past carrying a tray, glancing at both of them as if they were two idiots.

Speaking of Lydia, Stiles also discussed the fact that their parents were dating with Sheriff Stilinski.  
"Dad, how long have you been seeing each other in secret?" Stiles tried to open the milk bottle. "I knew the last time you wore a suit wasn't for a deposition!"   
The sheriff grabbed the milk and unscrewed the lid with ease. "You can date Derek. Why can't I date Lydia’s mom?”  
Stiles almost knocked over the cereal bowl. "Date? I'm not dating... I mean, of course, I want to date him…”  
"You haven't asked him out yet?" The Sheriff looked at his son and shrugged. "Looks like Dad Point 1 VS son 0.”

So Stiles now feels like he's being mocked in a lot of ways.   
Stiles is driving Derek to Melissa’s, and he's starting to think about more aggressive behavior.   
Derek is flipping through a magazine when Stiles glances at it and realizes it is an ad for a car.  
"You want to change your car?"   
Derek nods. "That old jeep of yours is a murder weapon for a baby, " he says, pointing to the back seat. “I can't fit a baby seat on this one."   
"Oh, yeah, " Stiles realized. "So we're talking about buying an SUV or something?"  
Derek glances at him. "Watch the road. I'm not gonna let this car die early. "

During the physical examination, Derek lifts up his shirt and Stiles notices that his belly already swells up clearly. Derek is tall, and with his clothes covered, Stiles doesn't expect the baby to grow so fast. He stares at it with a mixture of novelty and excitement. He doesn’t remember to look at the screen until Melissa reminds him.  
"As we might expect, the baby grows up faster than normal humans, or even faster than werewolves,” says Melissa, moving her camera and breaking into a laugh, “Well, I guess we know the sex of the baby now.”  
“What?” Stiles and Derek ask in surprise at the same time.  
"Yes, boy or girl, you want to know?" Melissa says with a sly smile.  
Stiles gets closer to the screen at the same time as Derek, but Stiles feels that what he sees isn't really different from what he saw the first time, except for the fact that he can tell the baby’s head from its body.  
"Tell me," Derek apparently has no more information than Stiles, he says.   
"Hey, wait!" Stiles quickly chimes in. "Objection! I mean... I'm not ready. No, we're supposed to keep some mystery, aren’t we?”  
Derek raises an eyebrow and says, “Otherwise, how to buy baby’s clothes or something in advance?”  
Stiles waves his hands. “What I'm talking about is the space of imagination, the feeling of expectation.”  
"Okay, okay, I have an idea," Melissa says as she pulls out a tissue and hands it to Derek. "You guys can throw a party for the baby.”  
She holds up her pen. “I write the baby’s gender on this piece of paper and seal it in an envelope. You give the envelope to a baker to make a cake and tell him to seal the baby's gender prompt inside the cake.”  
"Then, when you cut the cake at the party, you can see the pink or blue paper inside," Melissa says, folding the finished note into an envelope. "Pretty cool, Huh?"   
"Wow, this is great!" Stiles claps his hands in admiration. “Did you ever throw a party like this for Scott?”  
Melissa fiddles with her curly hair. "Huh, Scott? I just asked the doctor," She says, sealing the envelope, “And then I told his father it was a girl, you know, it’s Kyle’s fault to be out on a case instead of taking a pregnancy examination with me.”  
"So Scott’s dad didn't know the truth until after Scott was born?" Stiles asks nonchalantly.  
Melissa hands the envelope to Stiles and smiles. "Never mess with pregnant women."  
Stiles takes the envelope with a dry laugh.

"So... Party? My House?" Derek reluctantly reconfirms when they leave the exam room.  
"Yeah, the kind of little, simple party," Stiles holds the envelope up to the porch light, squinting his eyes and trying to find some clues. “Just invite our pack, uh, maybe add my dad?”  
Derek watches Stiles walk crookedly, shrugs, “Whatever.”  
“You obviously want to know, why don’t you just look.” Says Derek, tugging at Stiles’ collar and pulling him aside to prevent him from hitting the nurse running across.  
“It's not the same, the answer is here and it’s hard to avoid being curious,” Stiles turns and smiles, “Aren't you excited, Derek? We're about to find out if it's a boy or a girl. I can dance right here!”  
Derek's not answering, but his eyes are soft, which means he's in a good mood.  
"Ha, I knew it!" Stiles gestures with his thumb and forefinger at Derek with a gun gesture. He gets a little worked up suddenly, Derek is in a good mood, which is unusual, and this can be… a good time?  
"Hey, Derek," Stiles moves to Derek. "It's Sunday, and I was thinking... We could... go get a cup of coffee?” Damn… Stiles wants to punch himself right away after saying this old-fashioned invitation.  
Derek gives him a suspicious look and says dryly, "I don't drink coffee."  
“Oh, because of the baby,” Stiles pulls back and grabs the doorknob. “Well, we could go around the lake to the parking lot, just take a walk…”  
He is answered by a chill wind and a sprinkling of rain. Spring always arrives late in Beacon Hill, and somewhere along the way it has turned cloudy and rainy.  
Stiles shuts the door and gives Derek an embarrassed smile.

Five minutes later, Stiles and Derek are in the car, wet.  
Stiles strips off his red hoodie and scrubs his face. Derek rolls his eyes and flings a towel from the cabinet and throws it on him.  
Stiles throws his rumpled coat to the back seat, wipes his hair with the towel and wonders why Derek isn’t as soaking wet as he is as they both run through the rain.  
Derek takes off his leather jacket and casually wiped the water from his hair. Then he takes up the hot cocoa he has just bought at the hospital cafeteria and drinks it comfortably. And he certainly won’t tell Stiles that is Stiles' awful running form brings most of the spray to his own body.   
"The envelope!" Stiles half brushes his hair and remembers that the envelope is still in his pocket. He immediately jumps into the back seat to grab his coat, lying there fidgeting for a while, finally finds the envelope.  
"Uh... Derek, help me. I can’t come back…” Stiles’ feet are still stuck in the driver’s seat, begging for help.  
Derek reaches out impatiently and grabs Stiles by the waist and pulls him back.   
Stiles gasps. “I don’t think it’s wet inside!”  
Stiles' hair is damp and untidy, like a hedgehog. When smile, the corners of his mouth are high up, makes the smile brilliant and somewhat silly. The old white T-shirt is baggy and wrinkled, Derek’s hand still grabs at his waist and feels Stiles’ heat through the cloth.  
Stiles looks from the envelope to Derek's eyes, then freezes. Because he sees Derek with rain beads on his eyelashes, the multicolored pupils in the dark environment of the car show a more dense gray, which makes his eyes particularly deep.  
Stiles once doubted that Derek’s eyes were large and round, but they never seemed mild or innocent. Now he finally realizes that Derek’s brow ridge and nose are too high, which greatly shortens the distance between his eye and brow and makes his eyes always look sharp and full of masculine charm.  
Derek's watching him, too. OMG, he and Derek are gazing at each other. He knows the consequences of that gaze.  
Stiles' heart rate is spiking at an unlimited rate. The air conditioner in the car makes a small noise, and the heated air filled the air with cocoa's sweet smell. Stiles knows Derek can hear his heart beating fast, but he can't control it.  
Derek's two thin lips part a little imperceptibly.  
Oh, my God, this is so fucking hot. Stiles doesn't think he can wait any longer. He leans forward and tiny bit tilts his face slightly.  
Derek does the same thing at the same time.  
But their heads are tilted in the same direction.  
Er… Stiles stops immediately and moves in another direction.  
However, Derek thinks the same way.  
The two men freeze again awkwardly and look at each other.  
Crap! Sadly Stiles realizes that the moment of rush is over.  
Derek looks away quickly, grabbing his drink and turning his head.  
“…Cake shop. Let’s go to the cake shop.” Stiles coughs and starts the car.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"These glitter sheets are so stupid," says Derek, who gives up sorting the streamers and looked in disgust at the glitter on his hands.   
“You’d better leave these alone. You can’t tell what chemicals are in it.” Stiles is trying to tie a bunch of balloons to the windowsill, and there's so much of them, they almost bury Stiles’ face.  
“These balloons are enough to take my living room flying away,” says Derek, throwing away the streamers and standing up sarcastically.  
Scott and Liam are hanging a giant theme board with "BOY OR GIRL" written on it in round, lovely letters, because Derek's ceiling is so high, Scott is at the top of the ladder, and Liam is stepping on him to reach the rebar at the top. It makes them look like they're juggling.  
"Derek, can we have the scissors, please?" Scott yells down.   
Derek tries to ignore the high school girlie sign that occupying the most prominent position in the living room, grabbing the scissors on the table, because the ladder doesn't seem to be able to support the weight of three men at once so Derek steps right on to the back of the couch and tiptoed over to deliver the scissors to Scott’s outstretched hand.  
"Woo, what are you doing!" Stiles is taken aback, “It's too dangerous, Derek. How can you climb so high?”  
Derek is back on the couch, unflappable.  
And up there is Liam, struggling to lengthen his arms and keep his balance at the same time, trembling to snip off the extra streamers with an injured "excuse me?" look.  
When the door opens, Malia is leaning against it with a gummy caterpillar in her mouth, followed by Kira and Lydia carrying the cake.  
Receiving Stiles' reproachful glances, Malia shrugs her shoulders and munches her candy. “Hey, they won’t let me touch the cake at all!”  
It is a pretty little three-layer cake, covered with colored icing and sweet cream.  
Everyone gathers to stare at the cake.   
“Oh, I just now realized that x-ray vision is the best superpower in the world.” Scott squints, as if he can see right through the cake.  
Lydia grunts, "God, my curiosity's killing me."  
"Well, I can vouch for that," Malia says, tearing up the candy. "She's just been fishing the baker for information.”  
Kira holds her cheek in her hands. "I hope it's a girl. She'll be beautiful. "  
"Yes, we can dress her." Lydia's eyes sparkle.  
"I guess it’s a boy. We can play baseball together!" Scott and Malia said, and they high-five.  
Liam shrugs and grins. "I don't care. I'm not the youngest of the pack! "   
Derek listens to their heated discussion about the little thing in his belly. It is a strange feeling, but it does not repulse or embarrass him. Because all of the words are full of expectations, as if all of this is so taken for granted.  
"What about you, Stiles?" Scott asks.  
“Me? Of course I like both,” Stiles shakes his head in satisfaction. "I've already decided the name. Luke for the boy and Leia for the girl!"  
“Star Wars?” Derek sniffs his eyebrows, "Seriously? Stiles?"  
"Totally!" Stiles raised his arms and high-fived himself. “It’s been my dream for years!”  
"Serves you right for not getting a girlfriend," Derek croons. "You nerd. "  
"Better than someone's girlfriends are all mentally ill," Stiles responds quickly, then immediately realizes his boldness and says in a weak voice, “No offense.”  
"No taken," Derek replies faintly, but his eyes glance coolly at him.

"Boys, we are late," the sheriff appears at the door with Deaton.   
Deaton brings own fruit wine, which is so low in alcohol that Derek is able to get his hands on half a glass.  
Everyone stands around the table, Melissa's apple pie and cheese potatoes smell enticing as they heated up. Derek's living room hasn't been so busy since the last fluorescent party.  
As the alpha, Scott raises his glass to toast in the anticipated eyes.  
"Well... I don't know what to say," Scott says with a smirk as he grabs his head. "I just think he is gonna be the best family reunion ever. We have a new member coming up. It's so cool..."   
As he speaks the word "family reunion", Derek is stunned. Then he sees Stiles take a step closer to him and gives him a quick, happy look. Derek looks down at the cup as if he is concentrating on it. The warmth flows through his heart.  
“To Stiles and Derek!” Scott shouts, “And to the baby of course!”  
Everyone repeats it warmly, clinking glasses.  
"Wow, am I in the wrong house?" A voice chimes in, in a tone that is both flirtatious and familiar.  
Everyone hear the noise and looks at the door, and at the same time their faces take on a ghastly expression.

"Hey, what's with the face?" Peter saunters in, glancing across the room at the balloons, the cake on the table, and finally, Stiles and Derek standing shoulder to shoulder.  
"Oh dear, is that what I think it is? Did I interrupt some weird ceremony..." Peter clutches the back of his hand to his forehead in mock panic. Then he saw the sign hanging in midair and gasps, “Ah sorry, now I understand…”  
"What are you doing here?" Derek is the first to interrupt, he takes a few steps toward Peter with hostility in his eyes. Stiles hurriedly reaches out and stops him.  
"It's so sad that you don't ask your poor uncle how he's doing," Peter says with an unflinching smile. "After all, I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye when I left."  
"Of course, the circumstance then was... well, not very pleasant, I should say," Peter shrugs, "especially since some kid locked me in the basement and came over and said how much he liked Derek and all that, so I thought I’d give you some space. I didn’t say I wasn’t coming back.”  
When he talks about “how much he liked Derek”, everyone looks at Stiles. Stiles blushes and tilts his glass. It spills all over his sleeve. Stiles tries to hold it with another hand, but can't hold it steady. So the glass moves back and forth between his hands and eventually lands at his feet.   
Stiles looks up with his mouth open, right into Derek’s eyes. Derek just looks at him silently and deeply. Stiles 'hand is frozen in mid-air, his face is so burned that he thinks he's gonna pass out.  
Peter sees the reaction, raises his eyebrows and shouts. “Wait a minute, haven't you two... Oh, for God's sake, what are you young people thinking about?"  
"No, no, back to the point," says Peter, with a worried look on his face, snapping his fingers to draw attention back to himself, “Now that it's such a special day, I thought I'd give my beloved nephew a present, too."  
He blinks one eye and puts his hand beside his face and claps.  
The door opens again and in walks the tall, beautiful girl with long black hair, walking briskly.   
"Cora?" Derek exclaims.  
“Derek!” Cora runs into Derek's arms and laughs as she hugs him around the neck. “I miss you so much!”  
Derek's face softens and he rubs the back of her head.  
Cora pauses, as if sensing something, and deftly pulls out from under Derek's arms, flicking her hand to his belly. "Oh my God, it's so big. I was... I mean, I can't believe it. It's amazing!"   
Derek has to grab Cora's still-groping hands and pull them away from him, then introduce her to the others, “Cora, my sister.”  
“Stiles, long time no see!" Cora goes over and gives Stiles the same hug, then quickly lifts her knee and hits Stiles hard in the butt, and before Stiles' smile has time to turn into a wry smile, she whispers into Stiles' ear, “That’s for screwing my brother.”  
Scott lets out a chuckle. Stiles clenches his teeth and wonders if he should be grateful for Cora's presence.  
"What a sweet reunion," says Peter, who somehow has reached the table and pours himself a drink, “You're welcome.”  
He drinks, shrugs and points to the sign above his head. "So, boy or girl?"  
It is then that they realize that they have been so disturbed by him that they have forgotten the most important thing.

Stile's hand trembles as he holds the knife. For the first time in his life, he realizes how much cutting a cake means to him.   
"Well, I think you should cut together," the sheriff suddenly suggests in a low voice. "I'm afraid it will be worse for my son if he cuts off a part of himself first."  
Derek hears the words and silently holds the back of the handle and the shaking blade finally stabilizes.  
Stiles smiles at him with gratitude.  
Peter opens his hands and curls his lip, impatient, “This is gonna take forever.”  
Stiles takes a deep breath as he decides, "Ok... Let's do this. "   
The knife finally sinks slowly into the soft cake. As the incision unfurls, it reveals the deepest layer of mousse filling----It’s pink.  
"Uh... I don't think I cut the card or anything. That's weird. Where is it?" Stiles lowers his head as cuts, looking down in disbelief.  
All the people who are about to cheer gaze at him, choking.  
Trying to contain his emotion, Derek asks patiently, "Stiles, do you see this layer of Mousse?"  
Stiles doesn't stop looking for the “card”. He nods casually and says, "Yeah, it's strawberry flavor. It looks delicious.”  
So Derek can only join the silence.  
After a few seconds, Stiles changes his appearance in slow motion. “Straw…strawberry,” he stammers, his eyes wide open, “Pink!”  
He drops the knife, covers his mouth and shakes at Derek, jumping up and down for some times, “OMG, OMG, we’re going to have a daughter!”  
Derek nods slightly, with a smile on his face. "Here we go."   
“That’s so awesome!” Stiles jumps up and hugs Derek in joy.  
"Congratulations!" Everyone finally says their Congratulations after a long pause, and quickly clinks glasses and turns eyes away after seeing Stiles’ action.  
Stiles realizes that he is too excited when he puts his arms around Derek’s neck. But he can’t push him away abruptly, so he moves his hand down and puts them around Derek’s back and pats him vigorously. Oh shit, what am I doing? It's not a cowboy hug! Stiles scolds himself, and then he gets all confused, because the smell is so good in Derek's neck, and the feel of his shoulder blades is so good that Stiles couldn't help but tilt his head and put his chin on the back of Derek's neck, then rubs it.  
Scott, who witnesses all this, shakes his head and turns away.  
Stiles wakes up a little when he sees his movements and then wants to hit the wall with shame. Oh my God, he’s acting like a freak.  
"Stiles, I think you should finish cutting this cake." Derek is surprised at first when Stiles jumps on him, but when Stiles wraps around his neck, he feels a little nervous and happy. By the time he finally notices Stiles’ little chin movements, Derek already thinks it’s funny. Derek can almost see Stiles' face right now. So he suppresses a laugh and gives Stiles a way to back off.  
"Oh, yes, you're right." Stiles carefully lets go of his arm, then shifts his weight, pulls himself away from Derek with great rigidity, and pretends to take his knife in stride again.  
Peter sits on the back of the coach, clinks glasses with Deaton, and shakes his head with a smirk. "Oh man, I'll never get tired of this."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally speak the love out.

Chapter 12

By the time the party is over, there is only Stiles and Derek left in the house. And Peter leaves with Deaton, which leaves Stiles wondering what is going on. He doesn't think Peter's return is a simple act of contrition, though it is sweet of him to try to get Cora back. But now Stiles doesn’t think he is in the mood to read into the old man’s intention.  
Derek packs the leftovers and puts them in the refrigerator and Stiles is trying to get the streamers off and puts them in a garbage bag.  
This is the kind of alone time that people want to leave them with. Stiles knows it, so he is racking his brain to figure out what to do with it.  
"Stiles," Derek says, shutting the door to the refrigerator with his arm on top of it, is the first to break the silence. "... About what Peter has just said..."   
"Uh, what Peter said..." stiles stands up straight and is silent for a moment before turning to Derek.  
"Yeah, about what Peter said," Stiles breathes a sigh of relief as if he's finally decided what to do. He looks at Derek more like he is desperate. "He's telling the truth. Some kid locked him in a basement and asked him to, Uh, forced him out of Beacon Hill and told him... that he really, really likes Derek..."  
Derek's face relaxes a little, his eyebrows go down, but he doesn't look away.  
Stiles breathes silently, stepping forward. "Yeah, I really like you, Derek, like very very much."   
Stiles has a large picture window behind him and he carries the cold evening light that dims his face, but Derek can hear it clearly in his slightly husky voice, the nervous, shy, hopeful shiver.   
Stiles wants to add something, but he can't think of anything else.   
He and Derek, they hated each other at first. He hated his ego, his aggression, his selfishness. And Stiles knows, just like he's always peeking in on Dad's cases, that the risk factor in his nature, his instinct to search for dangerous, mysterious things. Like Derek. He's been ignoring Derek's fatal attraction to him, he's even had a fling with every girl in the Hale family, and finally, he comes to his senses----It's all about Derek. His strength, his loyalty, his quiet gentleness. He wants Derek. He longs to do all the intimate things with him. The longing nearly swallows him up.   
Stiles can only be silent, painfully and nervously.   
Derek takes his hand off the fridge. He stands up straight, then whispers, "I am wondering when you are going to say that."  
"...You know?" Stiles asks, blushing and surprised.  
"I'm a werewolf, Stiles," Derek walks up to Stiles. Does Derek know what Stiles is thinking? Of course he knows. Stiles' heartbeat, his inhaler, the scent of his love pheromones. Derek doesn't even have to use the Werewolf's abilities, and Stiles gives him away with his eyes, his face, and every move he makes.   
Derek is just hesitating whether to take it or not. With Paige gone, with his family gone, his loneliness makes him desperate and impulsive, desperate for company. So just like Stiles said, his relationships ended in near disasters. So Derek forces himself to stay out of it. He even has the delusion that every choice he makes leads to an embarrassing loss.  
And Stiles is so special. He has always maintained a wonderful sense of correctness and conviction, in spite of being a gigantic contradiction, a combination of cleverness and clumsiness, of courage and timidity, of sensibility and obtuseness. Now, for instance, he makes the words-overlapping and rough expression of affection sound strangely sweet.  
"So, what's your answer? '' Stiles asks, wide-eyed.   
Derek keeps his eyes down. At many of these critical moments, in face of Stiles, he is at a loss what to do. Yeah, there is nothing he can do, because… it is Stiles.  
Derek grabs Stiles' jaw and leans his head closer. "That's it."   
Stiles immediately realizes what's about to happen, and he gets more flustered than ever, so he starts mouthing off, “Oh, yeah, yeah, hold one of us’ head. We should have done this last time... "   
"Shut up, Stiles." Derek pinches his chin angrily and quickly blocks Stiles’ remaining nonsense with his mouth.  
Stiles gets the perfect kiss he's always wanted. He and Derek kiss each other soberly, willingly and seriously. Plus, Derek is a really good kisser. Stiles even thinks the first thing on his bucket list is a tick-off.  
"Does this mean we should do everything we need to do as a couple?" Stiles breathes in the fresh air and lets go of the hand that involuntarily clutches Derek's chest.  
"Like what?"  
"Date, a date," Stiles’ eyes roll, "I'm asking you out on a date with me and it's... Well, how about this? We wash and dry the baby onesies that everyone gave us, and then we sit here and watch the latest version of Star Wars, fold the laundry, play voice games with these hydrogen balloons, and then go to sleep,” he says, laughing.  
"Get rid of the hydrogen balloons," Derek raises an eyebrow to make it sound serious. "Sounds like a good date."  
With a grin, Stiles reaches back and pulls the balloon tied to the lamppost. He unties it at the base and sucks in a gulp of hydrogen. “Get rid of this? Are you sure?” His voice becomes flat and cartoonish.  
"Pretty sure," Derek says, suppressing a smile and slapping him hard on the back of the head. 

Into the night, Peter and Cora don't come back.  
Dressed in Derek's T-shirt and sweatpants, facing the king-size bed in Derek's bedroom, Stiles plays an air guitar excitedly. Then he spreads his arms and legs and jumps into bed. Face buried in the soft quilt, Stiles vigorously sniffs the smell of Derek full of his nose, although it is really freaky, Stiles can’t help but slide his hands and feet like swimming, messing up the covers.  
When Derek comes out of the shower, Stiles is in the bed, playing with his phone like an little animal that has grown accustomed to its new environment. Stiles, it turns out, is changing his relationship status of all his social media accounts to "in a relationship".  
"Sleep," Derek says, yanking the blanket off the floor and hurling it at Stiles.  
"All right!" Stiles dives into bed, lies down, and after a while hesitates and whispers, "Should we cuddle, as all the other couples do?"   
Derek glances at him. "Okay." He turns around, tugs Stiles' clothing from behind, pulls him roughly into his arms and wraps them around his neck.  
“Uh, I mean… oh, that’s all right. Never mind.” As soon as Stiles' back ridge touches Derek's warm, thick chest, he stops complaining, even though his first inclination is to be the one to cuddle, not the other way round. Given the size difference between the two of them, it does seem more comfortable now.   
Stiles' short hair rubs against Derek's cheek, his back ridge is thin. The gesture is intimate and unfamiliar, but at the same time, Derek is gratified by the authentic feeling of possessiveness.  
For a moment there is silence, but Stiles moves. Then he turns, faces Derek, and puts his hand around his neck.   
Derek, who is trying to fall asleep, opens his eyes and looks at him impatiently.   
"Well... I like this pose better," Stiles says with a smile.  
Derek decides to let it go, acquiesces, and closes his eyes again.  
Again there is a moment of silence.  
Then Stiles' hand eases off and rests against Derek's back. The palm of his hand presses against Derek's shoulder blades for a moment, as if tasting something. Then, the hand moves down again and touches Derek's waist socket. This time, he stays longer, as if to make sure Derek is really asleep or to cover up the fact that he is moving. For a moment, the hand changes direction and begins to stroke.   
“Stiles!” Derek, who is at the end of his patience, finally opens his eyes again and yells at Stiles.  
Stiles winks. "I'm sorry. I just want to... "  
"You can touch it if you want," Derek sighs, impatient and frustrated, as he guesses the destination of Stiles’ hand.  
"Really?" Stiles asks, moving quickly to place his hand on Derek's protuberant abdomen.  
This is the first time he touches Derek's belly since he's been pregnant. He's been hoping to do this for a long time, for God’s sake. Stiles is so jealous especially after being preempted by Cora.  
"Oh my... Hey, you little thing," Stiles gently moves his fingers along the arc then looks at Derek with a look of surprise and excitement. "Can you believe we're going to have a daughter, Derek? We’re going to have a Leia!”  
"Yes," Derek says with a soft smile in his eyes, “And there is no way we call her that.”  
Stiles ignores the fact that his name has been firmly rejected, and he stares wide-eyed at Derek. “Derek, you just say ‘her’!”  
"This is so real. This is so great. We’re gonna be dads!” Stiles continues, babbling, raising his voice.  
Indeed, when the third person pronoun of the baby changes from "it" to "she” or ”her”, it is as if the baby is no longer a collection of cells, but an individual with a separate personality, a little girl with big, beautiful eyes and delicate white skin. This makes Stiles' trance-like joy that lasts all day become extraordinarily real and concrete, a joy full of mission and pride.  
Derek looks silently into Stiles' bright eyes. He is so close that he can see the little mole on Stiles’ left cheek.  
It seems that his eyes are too focused. Stiles pauses for a second. His eyes become sharp, then flash shyly, and finally sink into profound emotion.  
"Well, Derek, I just want to say, even though I said the word 'like' a few hours ago," Stiles starts licking his lips, “… this may sound silly, and I don’t know if it’s too soon, but I… I’d like to say….”   
"I love you."  
Stiles hears what he's trying to say. Yeah, that's what he's trying to say. He hasn't said anything yet.  
That's Derek's voice.  
Stiles’ head starts to fill with blood. What did he hear? This is…  
“I love you, Stiles,” Derek says it again. He frowns slightly but pulls the corners of his lips slightly to draw out a faint smile. That's a slightly adoring look. That's a very sweet face for Derek.  
Stiles’ eyes immediately feel sore. He holds Derek's face in his hands, and he can't wait to kiss him.   
“On this day, we really finish all the things we should do in a relationship!” Stiles kisses him and speaks between their lips. He kisses him repeatedly and tenderly, for fear that Derek will see a tear in the corner of his eye, it’s kind of embarrassing.  
"Almost," Derek snaps back. He presses the back of Stiles' head, escalating the kiss.  
The light kiss turns into a wet one, and Stiles suddenly realizes what he’s missing.

Stiles wonders how Derek can be stripping him at the same time as he is concentrating on the kiss.   
Then when they are naked and Derek presses up kissing Stiles in the chest, Stiles admits that the only time of sex they have had, he was really bad at it.  
Derek is sitting on Stiles' legs. His hands are on either side of Stiles' body. He leans down and sucks on Stiles' lip. His knees touch Stiles' groin, and as he moves his body back and forth, their lower bodies slowly rub each other. Stiles opens his eyes in confusion. He sees the thick, fluttering eyelashes of Derek's. So the “little Stiles” becomes more energetic.  
Derek moves his hand to Stiles' chest and feels unexpected solidity. "You work out?"  
“Yeah… with Scott sometimes.” Stiles doesn't know what he is answering, he is spellbound by Derek’s hazel-green eyes. His eyelids droop, they are pink and beautiful.  
Derek does not speak again. He extends his hands and sits upright. Stiles is not satisfied with the interruption of his kiss.   
"I'm warning you, don't say another word," Derek threatens. He holds Stiles’ penis in his other hand, greases it quickly, and then he slowly sits on it.  
Looks like Druid's spell didn't just create the baby inside Derek's belly. Stiles immediately notices the difference in Derek's body, because the sensation of being wrapped in something is killing him. Stiles puts his hands on Derek's hip without a teacher.  
The hand that Derek has on Stiles' chest is pushing hard, he clenches his teeth and moving slowly with his eyes closed. His chest heaves and glows slightly because of the covering of sweat. His waist is still narrow, the lines undulating beautifully, and the slight bulge on his belly doesn’t detract from his fatal sexiness at all.   
Stiles rubs his hips hard, and then moves upward slightly, gripping his waist. Derek's breathing is jerky as his palms press against his lower back. Derek opens his eyes and looks at him vaguely. He takes a deep breath from his mouth, his taut back and the bulging veins in his neck giving way to his sensitive spots.   
Stiles rubs the skin around his waist with a little extra strength and feels a tremendous sense of accomplishment from Derek’s heavier gasps and faint groans.  
Derek carries his head thrown backward, revealing the line between his strong masculine jaw and neck, where the skin is all red, and Stiles looks on it with fascination and truly think it is the best view in the world.  
When it is over, the two men fall together without a sound for a long time.  
“…Can I speak now?” Stiles finally catches his breath, he can see the tattoo of a trident tree on Derek's back as his head rests in his shoulder socket.  
Derek sneers. "I thought that was enough to shut you up."  
Stiles runs his fingers along the lines of the Tattoo and smiles. "My brain's completely fried," he says, “so I just say good night, Derek.”  
"... good night," Derek whispers back after a moment of silence. Derek speaks slowly, sensing the strange, intimate and stable feelings of the words as they pass through his mouth.   
"So... you want a cuddle?"  
Derek rolls his eyes and puts his hands back around Stiles' neck.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the pause because of the holiday of new year.

Chapter 13

"I know, and then you had sex," Scott interrupts, tucking his backpack into his locker.  
"Hey! I haven't said anything yet!" Stiles opens his hands, and then raises his arm warily and sniffs around. “I took a shower in the morning. How can you still smell that?”  
Scott snaps the closet door shut. "You know, werewolves leave their own chemical scent on their mates," he says, jabbing Stiles with his fingers. "Here, here, here, and now it's all marked ‘Derek’s property’!”  
“Like a territorial marker?" Stiles is impressed.  
"Well..." Scott wrings his brow. "To us other werewolves, you look like you've got Derek's semen all over you... " he says, retracting his finger in disgust and rubbing it on his jacket.  
"Eww!" Stiles is shocked and dismayed by his friend's metaphor.  
Kira and Malia are walking in the door side by side and give a look of a mixture of surprise and disgust when walking past Stiles.  
"Look," Scott shrugs.  
Stiles is about to talk, and then Lydia comes over with her textbook, and she gives him the same look.  
"Come on!" Stiles raises his arm. "What is wrong with you, Lydia!"  
Lydia turns to point her finger at her temple. "They have a werewolf sense of smell. I have a brain!"  
Stiles purses his lips as he resists the urge to lift his middle finger.  
“Back to the business.” Stiles hooks his fingers at Scott. "What do you think of Peter?"  
"Peter? No idea. What did he do after he came back? " Scott wonders.  
"I just suspect him," Stiles puts his arm around Scott's neck as he struggles to free himself. "So, I have an idea."  
“Stiles, every time you say this, the end result tells me that I will regret working with you on this idea,” Scott says reluctantly.  
Stiles smiles on Scott and slaps him hard on the shoulder, "What's a friend for, my dear Scott?" 

Derek sits up in bed and dismisses the idea of trying to fall asleep.  
Cora checks into the guest room, so Stiles doesn't spend the night. Derek does feel tired, but he is wide awake and it seems that after night with someone, going to sleep alone has become more difficult, and he doesn’t want to dream of unpleasant memories.  
Walking in the living room, Derek finds the porch light on, and Cora sits with her back to him on the rail.  
Derek pushes open the huge glass door and goes up to her. "Still awake?"  
Cora holds a can of coke in her hand. She pulls her eyes back from the dark sky, draped in a thin blanket. "Just not used to it." She swings her dangling leg. "You can't sleep either?"  
Derek leans against the rail and doesn't answer.  
"Something's bothering you," Cora says, glancing at him. "Want to talk about it? "  
"No, " Derek says, shaking his head in an understated smile. "Let's talk about something else."  
"All right." Cora doesn't care, either, patting the empty seat beside her.  
Derek props himself up with on hand and sits on the rail next to her. Cora leans her head and sees Derek's other hand resting protectively on his belly at the same time.  
Cora draws her legs back, twirls around in the same direction as Derek, and spreads a bit of the blanket over his shoulder.  
"It's always cold in Beacon Hill," Cora says, tightening the blanket and leaning on Derek's shoulder.  
"South America, Huh? Where do you live?"  
"Rio, I was there last," Cora reaches over to show Derek. "No way to get a nice tan. Damn Werewolf ability."  
Derek smiles and shakes his head.  
"So... what's it like?" Cora looks at Derek's belly. "Carrying this little girl?"  
"... It's weird, it's kind of scary," Derek answers, stupefied. "And she's really heavy."  
Cora laughs as she hugs her shoulder. "I didn't believe Peter at the time, but when he showed me the pictures, I thought I couldn't wait, I had to come back and see this baby born... "  
"Pictures?" Derek realizes, half in anger, half in laughter. "Stiles must have given it to him. I can't believe he does this all the time."  
"Stiles, Ha, think also," Cora laughs and raises an eyebrow. Then she whispers, "He convinced Peter, and Peter convinced me halfway around the world.” She pauses, looking at Derek, “Derek, I envy you.”  
Derek is silent for a moment, then raising his hand to Cora's long, dark hair. "You're back now and you’re gonna find everything that belongs to you here soon.”  
"... Derek, I want to say, I'm not going to stay here forever," Cora puts down her coke and looks serious, "Yes, I was born here, but this isn't where I really wanted to settle down. I mean, I love you, Derek. I'm just... more suited to the free-wheeling lifestyle."  
"Beacon Hill is the birthplace of our family, all of us..."  
"Yeah, but after the fire, it's just... you know, it's not what it used to be, " Cora says, frowning and shrugging, "I mean, I blamed myself when you ran out of Alpha power to save me, and I felt like I hurt you, so I left.” She looks at the ground as if remembering, "I've been to a lot of places, met a lot of people, and gradually I've been able to relax, and I think it's great, and I'm no longer blaming myself for everything."  
Cora wraps her arms around Derek, strokes the area above his elbow, like she used to do when she was a kid, "Derek, I just want you to know that sometimes you're... so paranoid, and you obsess over things that aren't necessary, and you're so... hard on yourself."  
Derek listens to her talk quietly. Cora isn't the type of girl who likes to talk long, so she is a bit vogue and rusty. It is a long time before he speaks again, “Cora, you’ve grown up, you’ve become more like mother.”  
"Me?" Cora rubs her long hair in surprise. "Well, of all our siblings, you're the one who is most like her, Derek.”  
At this point, Derek's cell phone buzzes.  
Stiles’ message: “Hope you don’t see this message first time because it means you’re already asleep. Ha-ha. Well, kind of miss you. Good night.”  
It's pretty lame.  
"You should ask Stiles to move in," Cora knows from the look on Derek's face when he reads it. "I don't mind."  
"Cora, that's the end of the conversation," says Derek, taking his hand out of Cora's arms with feigned displeasure.  
Cora laughs and jumps off the rail and reaches out to Derek. Derek doesn't refuse her help. He grabs her by the palm of her hand and jumps.  
Cora pulls him closer and whispers, “Talk to Stiles about something you don't want to talk to me about."  
Derek looks down and kisses the top of the youngest sister's head,"... good night."

"Emma, everybody loves that name!" Stiles raises his hand.  
Derek shrugs. So Stiles goes back to thinking.  
Chief Stilinski's on call today, which means that their night alone has been moved to Stiles' room.  
Derek has only been in Stiles' room once, and that is over two years ago.  
Stiles' bedroom is no different than he remembers it, and his computer desk is still cluttered, with a surfboard sticking out of the corner of his room. But the cartoon graffiti of that stupid skateboard guy on the wall has been erased, so someone must have finally passed puberty.  
"Jessica, Bella, Alice, Sarah," Stiles jumps into bed with Derek and hands the book to him. "You can take your time and pick it up."  
"Stiles, you know you're a terrible name-maker, right?" Derek takes the book and asks him.  
“Who says that?” Stiles isn't convinced.  
"Um... cousin Miguel." Derek raises an eyebrow.  
Hearing the name he picked up at random for Derek, Stiles can’t help but laugh, “Gee, you remember,” Stiles says, scratching his head, "who would have thought it was Danny who was more interested in you back then."  
Derek gives him a dangerously cold glance.  
"Sheila. Sheila's okay," Derek says, looking back at the page where the last name Stiles writes. "I like the sound of that."  
"Sheila, Sheila Hale," Stiles repeats. "Well, that sounds great."  
Derek hears the full name, hesitated, “You says Hale, Stiles. You want her surname… Hale?”  
Stiles doesn't seem to realize what the problem is. He touches his nose. "Well, I mean, she's gonna be the new life of the Hale family for a long time, just like… some new hope. I think it's important for you," he continues, rubbing his neck, “And you're the one who's, uh, doing all the hard work, in a way... " Stiles’ face goes a little red, and his eyes start to wander, “ Yeah, and the Stilinski, to be honest, not to hurt my dad's feelings, I don't think any name would work with that..."  
"Stiles," Derek has to stop him in case Stiles brings the subject up again on something even more outrageous, like a family role, he writes, “If you don't mind, I am wondering if I could use that middle name Stilinski?"  
"Sheila Stilinski Hale," Stiles looks at the name that Derek has written down, and as he looks at the side-by-side, his and Derek's last names, his heart is filled with a sudden rush of satisfaction. The pretty little girl they are about to have will tell everyone about his relationship with Derek ---- his intimate partner.  
"It's perfect, Derek," Stiles holds up the paper. "I can't wait to fill out her birth file!" he says, reaching up for Derek’s lips. Because the bridge of Derek’s nose is so high that Stiles has to be angled to contain Derek’s lip.  
Stiles curled his lip in chagrin at his failed kiss for the Nth time, taking Derek's face in his hands and twiddling his stubble, "Looks like we need more practice."  
Derek puts pressure on his neck to get him closer, “We will work on it."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

“Are you sure?” Stiles leans against the wall and asks Scott.  
"Of course," Scott nods. "Liam and I have been following him for so long, he's been meeting with Deaton secretly almost every day."  
"What did they say? ''  
“I didn't quite catch it. I was afraid of being seen.” Scott says, frowning. “It was some sort of mantra, Wolfsbane..."  
"That's suspicious," Stiles shakes his head. "And what's he doing in this old neighborhood so late?”  
"Shh, he's in." Scott listens carefully. "We can follow. "  
Peter disappears behind the walls of an abandoned warehouse.  
Stiles refers to the window on the side wall.  
They quietly move over, the window is a little high so they have to climb up the windowsill to see it inside.   
Peter takes out his cell phone, turns on its built-in light, and flashes it three times into the pitch-dark distance.  
After a while, there is the sound of the iron gate scraping against the ground, and someone comes out of the darkness. The man turns on his flashlight, and the light shines out of his boots and the small piece of ground in front of him.  
Stiles and Scott are holding their breath.  
"It's been a long time," Peter says, holding out his hand.  
"It's been a long time, Peter," the man replies, his flashlight moving up to reveal his blue eyes and graying hair.  
It's Chris.  
“WTF?” Scott hugs his head and gasps.  
Without him supporting his back on one side, Stiles is shocked and, with a soft hand, slides down the windowsill and smashes into a broken wooden box on the other side, making a loud noise.  
“Crap! Are you okay, Stiles?” Scott jumps in to help him.  
By this time Peter and Chris have been whisked out. Peter, arms folded, shakes his head in disgust.  
“…I never thought it would be like this for our reunion, boys,” Chris says, flashing his flashlight at the two.   
"Why are you here?" Stiles asks quickly, rubbing his butt. "Aren't you supposed to be hunting Kate..."   
He pauses as he speaks, then stares at Chris. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."   
Only Scott still has the look of surprise on his face. "Uh, who wants to tell me about this late-night tryst?"  
Chris glances at him kindly then looks to Stiles. "Congratulations, you're gonna be a father, Stiles," he shrugs. “And the bad news is, you are right. Kate may be back in Beacon Hill."   
Stiles puts his hand over his forehead and makes this horrible retching sound.  
Scott scratches his head and whispers, "Shit."  
"I went to the temple on my way out, and there were fresh traces of it. So I suspected she might have caught me stealing the golden monkshood and she must have looked for something," says Peter, sitting on the steps in front of the warehouse. “She must have found something.”  
"Because I wasn't sure, I talked to Deaton. We were trying to track her down and get in touch with Chris," Peter says, raising an eyebrow at Chris, “Seriously, the Calaveras put you on lockdown?"   
"We've been missing Kate for a while," Chris says, fiddling with his flashlight. "She's a good hunter and of course she knows how to disguise or fabricate her traces.” He looks up and continues, “I know my sister well, and if she does know the news of Derek... she'll be back."  
Stiles presses his lips and leans over to twiddle his fingers.  
"Hey, wait a minute. Weren't you with Derek today? " Peter points to Stiles, “Where is Derek now?”  
"He and Cora go to pick up his new car. He should be home by now," Stiles says, because he hears from Scott, he makes up an excuse to follow Peter.  
"Should?" Peter asks rhetorically.   
Stiles fingers his phone nervously.

Derek is sitting in the car waiting for Cora to come out of the diner.  
The new car doesn't smell good, and after a long drive to the country road while Cora is testing it, Derek feels sick and tired at the same time.  
Derek feels sleepy as the warm evening breeze drifts in through a crack in the window.  
Until the ringing of his cell phone wakes him.   
"Derek, hi! ... Uh, are you home yet? " Stiles’ anxious voice comes out.  
“Nearly. Cora’s buying dinner.”  
"Are you alone now?"  
"What's the matter? Why are you so nervous?" Derek asks, rubbing his eyes. He is annoyed that he almost falls asleep in the car.   
Meanwhile, Cora grabs the bag and knocks on Derek's car window.  
"You wait a minute." Derek signals Stiles to shut up and looks at Cora.  
"There's green olives in the salad. Do you eat olives? " Cora says, leaning on her shoulder to reach out in front of the car. She pulls back her hand and waves a small envelope between her fingers at Derek. "What I'm really saying is, what is this?"  
"Cora's back? Good, you guys gotta get home..." Stiles is still talking on the phone.   
Derek takes the envelope, opens it, and takes out a small card.   
There is only one simple handwritten word "Hello" and the last letter "O" is drawn in the shape of a heart. The card, printed in the upper right corner, a bright red lipstick print, showing some provocative meaning.  
"What the hell is this?" Cora looks at it, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, "and the smell on this card is so unpleasant."   
Derek's brow is furrowed.  
"Stiles, I think you better come over here," he murmurs as he picks up the phone again from his lap.

Stiles sits on the couch and watches the card, silently covering his mouth.   
Peter takes two steps back and forth across the living room. "Damn, call your gang. They're after this crazy bitch."  
"The Calaveras can't come to Beacon Hill," Chris says, shaking his head. "You forget, Scott turned Liam. They’ll kill him too.”   
Scott lowers his head guiltily.  
“What is Kate's purpose in coming back?” Scott says, perplexed. "I mean, sending Derek a flirty card? It doesn't make any sense..."  
"For God's sake, who knows what she's doing?" Peter raises his arm and nods his head. "Do I have to remind you? This woman set my house on fire! "  
Chris raises an eyebrow and looks away.   
"Let's just kill her before she does anything," the ever-quiet Derek says suddenly, glancing at Chris coldly. “If you don’t mind.”  
Chris closes his eyes and sighs.  
But Stiles, who is sitting next to Derek, jumps up and puts his hands on both sides of Derek’s belly. "Don't say bloody words like that, Sheila will hear them!"   
Derek gives him a blank look, annoyed at his sudden lack of seriousness. "She can't hear."  
"Melissa said she could hear voices outside," Stiles protests.  
Derek looks down at Stiles' hands on his belly and sneers, "Are you sure you're covering her ears?”  
Stiles thinks, curls his lips and withdraws his hands, “... Anyway, no bad words!"  
Chris gently raises the corner of his mouth and gives Derek a meaningful glance.  
Derek looks at him, frowning, then calmly continues to look at him. 

The others leave, and Stiles stays in a flagrant way.   
"I know it's cheeky, but I've decided I'm moving in," Stiles pats the pillow to make it fluffier.  
"I'll empty out a closet for you," Derek says, rubbing Stiles' hair behind his ears as he lies down.  
Stiles grabs his hand and leans in,"... This might be a bad time to bring up the subject, Derek, how far has your werewolf power gone?"  
Derek is silent for a moment. He didn't expect Stiles to ask him the question, "how... do you find out?”  
"That envelope," Stile says, frowning at even the mention of the item. "Kate clipped it to your car window and you didn't notice."  
Derek is quiet for longer. He's not used to sharing these weak spots, but Stiles is watching him closely.  
"…Sense of smell, hearing, these senses are reduced to normal humans, of course, without claws,” Derek withdraws his hand and waves it at Stiles, “and…” he looks at Stiles, and in the darkness, Derek’s eyes lighten but that bright light is no longer blue, but a touch of gold.  
"Why... aren’t your eyes blue because..." Stiles shuts the door in the middle of his speech and nearly blurts out the forbidden name.  
"It's the loss of power," Derek answers. "Yes, and... I dream about Paige... These days."  
Stiles freezes for a moment, jerking his head slightly. "Oh... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Derek... "  
“Sorry?” Derek asks, puzzled. He thinks Stiles will get angry, blame him for keeping things a secret for so long, and Stiles goes so far as to apologize first.  
"Well...I mean, since knowing Sheila's existence, I've been in a state of blissful self-absorption. I'm sorry I didn't notice it until now…"  
“Stiles…”  
"So, how are you... feeling?" Stiles asks cautiously.  
Derek turns to look at the ceiling, hesitates for a moment then says slowly, “…It's complicated. I mean, I never wanted to be a human because I was... you know, born a werewolf, I only know how to be a werewolf, which, of course, doesn't seem very successful neither..."  
"Hey, Derek... "  
Derek ignores Stiles' attempt to interrupt and continues, "Losing the power of the werewolf is like a disability. It feels very… weak, powerless, and…”  
“Lonely?” Stiles adds softly. Derek turns his head and looks at him in slight surprise.   
Stiles leans over, presses his hand to Derek's cheek, strokes his sideburns, "Derek, you probably shouldn't be thinking about what you're losing."   
Derek’s loss of werewolf power puts him in an awkward position of identity. He no longer possesses the superior abilities of a werewolf, nor does he have the confidence to face life as a normal human. And the irreconcilable contradiction between those two identities, such as Paige, transforms into a nightmare that haunts Derek, reminding him of all the things he asked for but couldn't get.   
"Let's think, Mr. Hale, what you have now," Stiles clears his throat, with that obnoxious show-off tone of a lawyer, "Friend, uh, Scott's whole crew, family, uh, Cora, Malia, well, let's just say Peter, lover, hello, there," Stiles waggles a long, spindly finger at himself. "And, best of all, a daughter, this incredible creature is here," he says, rubbing Derek's swollen belly and winking at him. “So you’re really rich.”  
Too hard... on myself. Derek thinks about what Cora said to him that night. He sighs and unfurls his eyebrows. "I guess I'm not very good at assessing property."  
"Seriously, Derek, you should make yourself happy, and trust me, no one is going to blame you for wanting to make yourself happy," Stiles says, nuzzling Derek's forehead, “And even if it's temporary, you'll be a great human being."  
Stiles says, feeling his hand on Derek's belly slightly pushed by something.  
"Ha, see, I told you she could hear us!" Stiles freezes and smiles at Derek with a smirk on his face and after a while, his mouth wide opens again, “Wait... wait, she moves? Sheila moves?"  
Derek gives him a disdainful look. "Of course she moves."  
"No, I mean... it's not the first time she's moved? I can't believe you didn't tell me!” Stiles retorts, holding up high. But his hand is still stubbornly pressing on Derek's belly and is reluctant to let go. “This is a memorable moment, you need to share with me, you understand, Derek?”  
Derek looks away then looks back again at Stiles, raises an eyebrow and says, “Okay, Stiles, this is her first move.”  
"Come on! I don't believe it! "  
The little envelope lies quietly on the bedside table. Derek lets out a sidelong glance, nuzzling Stiles' neck, pressing his face into the pillow to keep him from making a scene.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Press here, fade here, then load here, lock here and trigger here, of course," Chris slowly does the ejection step once, then does it a second time, only faster. It's very cool and smooth.  
Derek and Stiles watch him play, then looks down and play with the guns in their hands.  
"I never thought I'd be teaching a Hale how to shoot a pistol," Chris says, holding his arms together. “It’s so ironic.”  
"I trust my teeth and claws more," Derek says with a slightly disapproving look as he flips over his weapon.  
"Well, it's too bad you don't have one now," shrugs Chris, "and that's why hunters always get the upper hand. You werewolves are so arrogant."  
Derek gives him a menacing look with a cold face.  
"Hey, how about a nice, harmonious teaching environment?" Stiles quickly smooths things over, "At least we're on the same page."  
Chris raises his hands in a gesture of compromise.  
Derek tries several times to free the magazine from the gun but fails. "I don't believe this thing is any protection right now," he says.  
"The modified Beretta M9 is a perfect match for the special wolfsbane bullet, it can go through the heart in 50 meters, if you can aim it, of course," says Chris, expressing pride in the weapon.  
"Oh, no wonder it's heavier than I thought, but the operating rules haven't changed, have they?" Stiles says, with great dexterity, he manages to retract and reassemble the magazine.  
"What the... How did you do that?" Derek turns to him in disbelief and does not understand that Stiles is the man who has first succeeded in mastering the weapon.  
"What can I say? Talent, I guess. I'm a sheriff's son, after all!" Stiles gives Derek the glad eye, of course, and he won’t tell him, knowing in advance that Chris' firearms lessons, he's been going after sheriff Stilinski for three days of intensive training. He is just trying to impress Derek.  
"Oh, the pizza's here. I'll get it." When the doorbell rings, Stiles puts down the gun and answers the door.  
Derek finally squeezes the magazine into his hand and snaps it into his gun, glancing at Chris, “You know, this gun is going to be aimed at Kate.”  
"I know, and I'm teaching you," Chris says, wiping his gun slowly and carefully. "But I gotta tell you, Deaton is trying to grow wolfsbane that's very effective against were-jaguar..."  
"I'll kill her if she threatens the baby," Derek interrupts, staring at Chris. "I won't allow anyone to hurt Sheila.”  
Chris puts down his gun and sighs. He glances lightly at Derek's bulging belly. "... Well, I understand."  
Derek's eyes narrow.  
Chris wipes down the gun again, "Because I'm a father, too."

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Stiles gathers up the rest of the food and packaging and asks Derek, who is slumped on the couch.  
The baby is growing so fast that Derek's werewolf power is running out, placing an increasing strain on his body. There is less and less time for Derek to get to sleep at night, and after meals, when the baby is quiet for a few minutes, Derek will be snoozing on the couch.  
Derek is still practicing his M9, and the mechanical clatter is crisp.  
Stiles reaches behind him and presses the gun. "It's not going anywhere."  
Derek is silent for a moment, then whispers, "Stiles, I'm afraid I can't protect her."  
Stiles freezes, but instead of letting go, he rests his chin on Derek's shoulder and whispers,"...Me too.”  
Derek turns his head, and he sees Stiles' dark brown, bright eyes.  
Stiles doesn’t deny his anxiety. Where Kate is, what she wants to do, how she will do it, he doesn't have a clue. This enemy-in-the-dark condition haunts him like a ghost.  
"...But we get over it. I mean, all the time, we get over it," Stiles adds.  
Derek doesn't speak. He lowers his eyes, his lashes thick and drooping.  
Stiles pulls his hand back around his neck, kisses his eyelids and strokes his long eyelashes.  
Derek finally lets go of the gun, grabs Stiles' wrist, lifts his chin to Stiles' lips, and kisses him on the mouth.

As soon as the pack is put on full alert because of Kate, it is as if Kate has fallen into the earth and there has been no movement. Has it not been for the ostentatious card, one may almost have suspected that her return is an illusion. But no one is happy, because the quiet makes it seem like Kate is waiting for something, too, especially Stiles, because the day Sheila will be born is getting closer and closer.  
"I mean, based on the results so far, natural birth is possible. But..."  
"But I recommend the surgery," Deaton says, finishing Melissa’s sentence. "I've been working on Jennifer's spell these days." He pushes the stack of data in front of them, and Stiles reaches out and reads it.  
"The spell is so powerful that, as Melissa’s examination tells, it alters Derek's anatomy so that the baby can be born naturally, that is, through the entire process of the spell," Deaton continues, "But I am concerned that the purpose of this spell is to capture Derek's werewolf power for Jennifer’s resurrection, which means that when the spell is successfully completed and the baby is born, she will take away the power of Derek."  
“So, there's a possibility... Derek won't be able to turn back into a werewolf?" Stiles understands immediately.  
Deaton nods. "So I suggest we change the last stage of the spell, artificially. So she can be born by C-section. It might be safer. "  
"There's nothing to worry about. Plus, men have a narrower pelvis, surgery may be more advantageous," Melissa adds. "Well... also it's less of a burden, right?"  
"... Oh, yes, yes, it can, right, Derek?" Stiles can't help but admire Melissa's ability to make things awkward for a second, as he flips through the paper in his hand and casually asks Derek.  
This last check is Melissa and Deaton's "joint session" and perhaps it is the tension of the situation that heightens Derek's reticence. He replies in a low, curt voice, "I don't mind."  
Melissa's right. Even though Derek accepts and loves this baby, he hasn't fully adjusted to the changes his body's been going through over the last few months. To give birth like a woman, if it can be avoided, he still won't want to face it.  
"Let's discuss the specifics of the procedure. Deaton and I think it should be set in about a week, and the anesthesiologist..." Melissa promptly picks up the second document and begins listing it.

"Hey, you guys have been gone so long, spending so much time with these two in 10 cubic meters is like a death sentence!" Peter sits on the roof of the car, clasping his foot against the window and angrily yells at Stiles and Derek.  
Scott sticks his head out of the window with a sandwich, "How's Sheila Doing? When can we see her? "  
"Soon," Stiles forces a smile at him. "Let's go."  
"We'll follow you." Chris honks and yells at Peter. "You can keep this position on the road."  
Peter snorts and slides through the window and into the car.  
Two cars pull out of the garage. 

Since Kate's return, the bodyguard ride has become a ritual. To everyone's surprise, Peter seems to relish joining the ranks of the protectors, despite his constant complaints.  
"You've been quiet, Derek," Stiles says with gentle tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel. "I know. Are you getting nervous, too? "  
Derek shrugs his shoulders, and just as he is about to answer, he sees something sweep up ahead of him through the nearby woods.  
“Stiles!”  
"Shit! What’s that..." Stiles hurriedly hits the brake, the headlights are bright and shine on the objects in front of them. Stiles doesn’t have time to finish the sentence, because the creature is moving rapidly toward the car, and by the time Stiles' image is superimposed on the word in his memory, he is in a state of shock. All he can feel was the whirr of his vision, and after the deafening clatter of metal, there is darkness before him.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Strong smell of gasoline.  
Stiles thinks his head is buzzing. There is a burning pain in the forehead. And his back is killing him.  
Damn it, It's the Berserkers!  
Stiles is moaning, trying to open his eyes.  
“Stiles!” Derek's cries are accompanied by the tapping of some metal, and Stiles' consciousness finally returns.  
"Um..." Stiles notices his body is bent at an odd angle, his knees are caught in his chest. He soon discovers it is because his jeep is careened to the ground, the door is now under him and he is being caught in the space between the door and the seat, his ribs stinging from the harness.  
Shit, that son of a bitch wrecked his beloved jeep.  
"Are you awake?" Derek yells at him from outside the car as he watches Stiles fumble his seat belt. "Get the hell out of there!"   
Stiles pushes the door. It is buckled, and even if it opens, Stiles estimates it will be jammed by the ground at this angle. So he turns his head to look at the passenger side, because of the tilt of the car body, it may be a bit challenging to climb up, but how did Derek get out?   
“Watch out!” Derek reminds him impatiently.  
Stiles sees what's in Derek’s hand, a fragment of his car's bumper, and he cradles his head immediately. Sure enough, Derek has planned his escape route for him, and he bangs the piece of metal against the windshield, which is already shattered, Derek easily breaks them all.  
Finally, Derek grabs Stiles' arm and helps him out of the car, which is almost useless.  
"Are you okay?" Derek looks Stiles in the eye as he crawls out of the car.  
Stiles' head is still paining, and he suspects he's got a mild concussion, because he can't think straight, and he's feeling a little nauseous. As he stands upright, a warm liquid is dripping from his forehead and into his eyes, causing him to close his left eye uncomfortably. He knows it is blood, and he reaches out to feel the cut on his forehead.   
Derek immediately stops him, “Don’t touch.”  
"Oh... are you okay?" Stiles just wipes the blood from his eyes and turns his head to look at Derek, then he notices that Derek’s other arm is bloody. “OMG, what’s wrong with your arm?”  
Derek frowns. "Don't worry about it."  
Stiles follows his gaze. Chris's car is a few meters ahead. Further on, two monsters more than two meters tall, clad in animal skins and armor, and wearing masks of animal skulls---the familiar abomination, Kate's favorite servant, the Berserkers. Peter and Scott have already started fighting with them, and Chris has pinned them down by fire further back. God knows how he gets that submachine gun in the car.  
The Berserker’s tough skin greatly impairs the attack of the werewolves’ teeth and claws, and Chris’s bullets look even more lethal because they are engraved with a special incantation carved in silver.   
“This is not good…” Stiles gulps down a mouthful of saliva, shakes his head and steps back.  
"I called Cora," Derek assures the backup support.  
"Where is she?"  
"That's what I am wondering." Derek knows who Stiles is asking, and he looks around warily, but there is no sign of Kate. It makes him feel like a lamb being hunted, which is not pleasant at all.  
Stiles remembers something and turns back to his jeep, ducking back through the gap in the windshield.   
"What are you doing? It could explode!" Derek yells at him.  
“Quick!” Stiles fumbles inside.  
"Derek, get out of there!"  
Derek hears Stiles' voice, and though he doesn't understand Stiles' intent, he is subconsciously leaning over the wreckage of the car.  
There is a bang of the gunshot, and the Berserker who has just knocked Scott to the ground and is about to make up a punch takes a step back because of the hit, allowing Scott to roll away from the attack. Chris, nearby, has time to change the magazine, fires again and raises his arm and thumbs at the head.  
Stiles holds the gun breathlessly, his lower arms tingling from the force of the recoil, and the thrill of the first shot sends his heart racing.  
Derek stares at him half-startled and half-angry.   
Stiles gulps his saliva, looks down at the smoking barrel, and stammers, "Look... I guess I'm talented?”

Chris keeps a medical kit in his car, and Derek is trying to stop the bleeding from the wound in his arm, and Stiles quickly starts the car and watches the battle ahead nervously. If it gets any worse, all he can think about is running into the ring with this car and taking Chris and the others.  
The werewolf's self-healing power is so advanced that Derek has rarely seen anything like a bandage, and Stiles has to take over the dressing. The cut on Derek's hand must have happened when the car rolled over. The blood loss makes him look pale. Stiles feels the sticky mess of blood between his fingers and worries. “Are you okay? Oh No, you don't look fine at all."  
As Derek sits down, he feels a tremendous sense of exhaustion. He struggles to raise an eyebrow at Stiles, “Because you can't see the mess you're in."  
Stiles sees Derek's hand gently rubbing on his belly, frowning as he puts his hands on it. The baby is moving a lot.  
"She's fine. She's probably just scared," Derek explained. He is sure he has covered his belly in time, but the increased fetal movement leaves him feeling unsure.

The bright lights tear into the darkness, and before Derek's new car can stop at the end of the road, two vigorous figures have rushed out to Scott---- Cora and Malia.  
"Seriously? A little help here please!" Peter turns his head in exasperation as his daughter and niece join Scott's battalion without a second thought.   
Only Stiles is relieved.  
When the car comes to a stop and Liam and Kira get out of the car together, the two Berserkers stop the attack at the same time as if they have consulted when Kira’s arm swings and the beautiful Samurai knife takes shape in her hand.  
Before the crowd can respond, they turn quickly and disappeared into the darkness.  
"... What is this... running away?" Peter freezes.  
"Kira's knife can cut through their shields, which will be bad for them," Scott says, pulling his sleeve up to wipe the blood off the corners of his mouth.   
"Kate’s new guys don’t seem to have backbones as they used to." Peter squints thoughtfully.

The mess on the ground makes it look like an ordinary car accident scene. The appearance and disappearance of the Berserkers are without warning, and the joy of crisis relief has not stayed in Stiles' mind for long.  
"That's not right... that's weird," Stiles murmurs. It doesn't seem like a failed deliberate attack, especially since Kate hasn't shown up.  
"You better get back to the hospital," Chris says, simply putting gauze on Stiles' forehead and pointing at Derek.  
Derek closes his eyes wearily and nods.  
“Oh, yes, I call Melissa…” Stiles says and just finds his phone is not in his pocket and probably is in the car.  
At that moment, Scott's phone rings.  
"Well, we are together, and something happened, and, uh, no, uh you go first..." Scott answers the phone, his expression suddenly freezes.  
"Stiles, it's your dad, he said..." Scott grits his teeth. "He was on patrol, found Deaton… he was attacked and he’s being rescued now.”  
The rest looks at each other, their faces suddenly grow grave.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Waiting at the hospital, Sheriff Stilinski is startled when he sees Stiles covered in blood. Lydia, wrapped in a shawl, stands over him, too, a frightened look on her face.  
"Lydia, why are you here?" Stiles helps Derek get out of the car and looks at her quizzically.   
"I called the sheriff over to Deaton's House," Lydia says, swallowing salvia at Stiles’ blood-stained face. “I mean… I dreamt Deaton was…”  
The crowd, aware of Lydia's abilities, nod knowingly, and their mood grow gloomier as predicted by Lydia, Deaton’s situation must have been grim.  
Melissa checks Derek first. "The baby's fine for now, but you'd better stay here for a few days. If she continues to move too much, it could cause a malposition or premature contractions," she says, putting the stethoscope away. "I'll be right back with your drip and your wounds need some work done,” she says, absent-minded, her face looks ghastly. Stiles already sees blood all over the hem of her overalls.  
Stiles places a pillow behind Derek's waist to help him feel more comfortable. "Do you want some water?”  
Derek shakes his head. He looks at Sheriff Stilinski in the doorway. “How’s Deaton?”  
"Well..." the sheriff sighs as he listens to Scott's account of their adventures tonight. "The attack took place near his clinic. He had severe... animal scratches on his neck and chest. He was in hemorrhagic shock when I found him. Now... wait for the results of the surgery."  
"Did you compare the wounds?"  
"Kate, yes, if there's a second were-jaguar." Melissa walks in again, obviously she has cleaned up her mood. She sits next to Derek’s bed, pulls his arm up and unties the bandage to check if any glass is still in the wound.  
“Careful not to press it, it heals not as fast as it used to be.” Melissa jokes as she sticks the needle in Derek's other hand and hangs the infusion bottle up. Seeing Derek frowning all the time, she snaps her finger in front of him. “It's been a tough night for everyone, but right now you need to get some rest.”  
As Melissa wipes the blood around Stiles' eyes clean, noticing that Stiles is clasping his hands, his thumbs spinning unconsciously and rapidly alternately, she tenderly ties on the gauze and whispers, “Stiles, are you okay?”  
Stiles doesn’t know why does Melissa ask him that question, “No, well, I mean, I'm fine," Stiles replies quickly. He presses his lips. "Thank you."   
Melissa tries to say more, but all she can do is smile and squeeze Stiles' shoulder reassuringly.   
Melissa carries the rest of the stuff out the door, and the sheriff leads Scott and the others knowingly out of the room and gently closes the door.  
Stiles pulls the chair back over to Derek's bed.  
Derek stares at him for a moment, pressing his hand against the corner of his eye socket and gently wiping away the remaining blood.   
Stiles closes his eyes and smiles.  
Then the two look at each other in silence for a long time.  
The silence contains their burning sense of helplessness about the current situation.  
Stiles coughs, "Is she still kicking?"  
This sentence means Stiles tries to avoid the topic and doesn't want to talk about the less optimistic situation.  
Derek frowns. There was something dissatisfying in his eyes, but he gives in. He follows Stiles' words. “Hmm.”  
Stiles reaches under the blanket and gently strokes Derek's bulging stomach, whispering. “Hey, Sheila, it’s okay, you will always be safe…”  
"Stiles..."   
"You should rest. Melissa's right. I'm right here. Get some sleep," Stiles says softly, looking at Derek with his dark brown eyes, calm and gentle.  
Derek faintly thinks that Stiles’ eyes are different, they are too calm. But it feels so comfortable when Stiles’ hands press around his waist, and the baby seems to recognize the temperature of Stiles’ hands and the kicking seems less intolerable. So Derek involuntarily, almost unconsciously, closes his eyes.

After midnight, when Deaton's surgery is over, Scott notifies Stiles by tapping the glass outside the window.  
Stiles holds his chin to look after Derek, who is asleep, bites the nail cap of his thumb, stands up when he hears the noise, and then responds by carefully moving the chair and running towards Scott.  
Sheriff Stilinski goes back to the station first because of work, Peter and Chris go to check on Deaton's accident scene, while the others insist on staying and stand outside the intensive care unit.  
"He just looks like... Awful," Malia whispers as she frowns and swallows the word beginning with "D".   
"He's going to be all right, isn't he?" Kira wraps her arm anxiously.  
Stiles walks over, an oxygen mask covering most of Deaton's face. He doesn't move, only the data lines on the machine's screen indicate he's alive.   
"He lost too much blood, he's not getting enough oxygen to his brain, and he's probably going to be unconscious for a long time," Melissa sighs.  
"For a long time?" Scott clutches uneasily at his arm. "Like... forever?"  
"The human brain is amazing. Maybe he'll wake up in a couple of days. We should be confident," Melissa pretends to be relaxed.  
Stiles sees his own face reflected in the glass, pale and expressionless. His fingers beat unsteadily against the glass.  
“Stiles?” Lydia looks at him quizzically.   
"Hmm?" Stiles stops his fingers and presses on the glass.  
"You..."  
“Guys, tonight... The Berserkers let us go, not by accident because Deaton is the intended target. When everyone was gathered around Derek and me, she... Kate attacked Deaton. I mean, she did it on purpose. She didn't even come to the road,” Stiles turns around. "We were set up, and now we don't have Deaton, Kate knows all the current members of our pack, and she sees Chris, you know, Chris alone, not the Calaveras. She knows everything about us, but we don't know anything about her…" Stiles talks faster and faster. He stretches out his arms a little excitedly and eagerly, "That's... that's not good at all, that's terrible!"   
“Stiles!” Scott grabs him, putting his arm around him and pressing hard. “Calm down!”  
Stiles blinks as if to wake himself up. He puts his hands to his face and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just…”  
"You're anxious, I understand," Cora shrugs. But Stiles makes the point. Tonight they do lose a battle, and not just a badly wounded Deaton.  
"Chris may have found something, and we need to figure out what to do about it." Scott lets go of Stiles.  
"Kids, it's too late. Go home and get some rest," Melissa warns.  
"Kira," Stiles pulls Kira, “One minute?"

Kira looks at him quizzically but obediently follows Stiles into the nearby hallway.  
"I can't talk to Deaton right now, so I'm gonna ask you," Stiles licks his lips, his eyes moving back and forth across the floor and over Kira's face, a little jumpy. “About the Nogitsune, you know, I mean your mother must know how to summon it..."  
"Wow, wait a minute, Stiles, what do you mean?'' Kira reaches out and interrupts Stiles, she steps back in panic. “Gee, Stiles, you didn’t mean to…”  
"Kira, listen to me, we need strength now, Nogitsune, it likes my body, doesn’t it?" Stiles looks pale in the hospital light, “We need better odds. I can't be protected forever! "  
"Stiles, listen to me. You're not thinking clearly. You need to..." Kira carefully touches Stiles on the shoulder, trying to convince him.  
"Stiles?" Scott comes over suddenly. He pulls Kira behind him, frowning. "Are you crazy?"  
Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, you're just in time. I have a better idea," he says, stepping over and tapping on Scott’s shoulder, "You can turn me into a werewolf, Scott. You're Alpha."  
"The neck, it's a nice place, and, uh, this position seems a little too personal for the two of us," Stiles gushes, even raising his forearm to Scott. "Wrist is fine."  
“Stiles!” Scott slams his hand down, "Do you hear yourself?"  
"I hear it! I know it sounds stupid!" Stiles says suddenly in a high voice. "I can't... I can't just sit here! Did you see Deaton? And tonight... Derek... I can’t protect him! There's nothing I can do!”  
"Stiles..." Scott is startled by Stiles' sudden outburst, he clumsily tries to find words to retort and console his friend.   
"Stiles," Suddenly a deep voice cuts in, interrupting the conversation finally out of control.  
Stiles reflexively quiets down immediately and follows the voice.  
Derek stands a few steps away, grabs his injured arm and stares coldly at Stiles.

"Derek... I…" Stiles hangs his head, trying to form words. He stutters for a moment, gulping his lung out as if in desperation. He lifts his head and looks back at Derek. “Listen to me. Isn’t this a good idea?”  
"I can be just like you, quick and strong, and I can fight beside you, isn't that good?" Stiles frowns, his face imploring, pathetically.  
"Derek, Stiles, he's just..." Scott sees Derek's increasingly sullen expression and wonders if he is going to punch Stiles in the face next, so he speaks quickly to try to calm the tension.   
"Scott, I got this." Derek interrupts, his chin tipped sideways.  
Upon receiving the eviction order, Scott twitches his mouth and pulls Kira away.  
Derek moves toward Stiles, and as he reaches out his hand, Stiles closes his eyes and lowers his jaw. The expected heavy blow to the back of the head does not occur. Derek puts his palm to his neck and puts his thumb to Stiles' chin to force him to lift his head.  
In the light, Derek's hazel-green eyes are pale, with wispy gray and orange along the edge of his iris. His eyes are always beautiful, and Stiles looks at them as if his anger and anxiety have sunk in, leaving the worm bite like fine unwilling and powerless guilt.  
"Stiles, I don't want you to be like me at all," Derek says slowly, after a moment of silence.   
Stiles tries to talk, but Derek's thumb goes up a little, stopping him forcefully from interrupting.   
"Look, it's not even because the bite could kill you," he says with a slight frown, his eyes becoming darker. Stiles catches the momentary change of his expression and his heart tightens suddenly---- Paige, that's how she died. Stiles is beginning to regret the next second, God, he is such a jerk.  
"I don't want you to be a werewolf, Stiles," Derek says, lowering his eyes. “You're good enough, you’re very good as a human being. I like the way you are, you don't need to change. You don't need to change at all, I forbid you.”  
Stiles opens his eyes. His eyebrows lift so high that the wound is painful. It must have been the pain of the pulled wound that makes his eyes sore, swollen and a little wet. Stiles never thinks Derek will say something like that to him, but it is so sweet that he wants to tape it for safekeeping.   
"Do you think I'm... good?" Stiles reaches out and wraps his arm around Derek's back, eager to reconfirm it.  
Stiles' life changes dramatically after the supernatural creatures invaded Beacon Hill, and his friends become nearly all shapeshifters. Only Stiles remains as he is, a human being, sticks to himself in countless bad times. Stiles isn’t perfect, but you can’t deny that he’s powerful, and Derek is captivated by the pure, unadulterated truth in him.  
And today, Stiles is finally shaken, because of me. Derek thinks.  
“Goddam right.” Derek looks at Stiles closely, but his expression is still cold.  
Stiles grins as he sees Derek say it with a straight face. He blinks his big brown eyes, comes close and chatters on and on, “Really? Thank you. I mean, I'm touched. Um, I'm... I'm sorry,” he babbles and tries to kiss Derek on the lips.  
Derek's hand, which is on his neck, makes a sudden effort to pinch it and pull him back, then hits him hard on the back of the head. Stiles cries tears of real pain. He clutches his head and screams, “Why…”  
"I didn't say I'd forgive you easily," Derek says, withdrawing his hand and walking away.   
Stiles quickly follows, "You slow down..."  
“Ow…”  
“Did I touch your wound? I’m sorry…” Stiles quickly pulls his hand back and held it to his head.  
“She must be a little upset for being woken up,” Derek says, rubbing his hand on his belly. Then he stops, frowning and looking down at his stomach. “Stiles, she’s not moving properly. It’s like…”  
“Like what?” Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s belly and opens his mouth wide when he feels the different feeling under his hand. “Oh my God, Derek, you didn’t just go through a contrac-… -tion?”  
He glares at Derek as he swallows his last words and runs, “Melissa!”


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"It's fake, but it looks like it's in two days," Melissa says, tagging along as she takes a sample of Derek's blood.  
The terms of the surgery have already been discussed, but after Deaton's injury, Melissa needs a new assistant, and Lydia, who has attended basic medical training, becomes her new choice. To calm Stiles' nerves, Melissa checks with him again, and according to Deaton's original research, once the baby leaves Derek's body, the power of the werewolf is reactivated, making the second half of the operation much easier.  
Stiles stays up all night. News of Kate's attack and news of Sheila's imminent birth bombard him. Anxiety and joy send high-pressure pulses racing through his nervous system. It takes Stiles until dawn to crash at Derek’s bedside.  
Stiles wakes up in Derek’s bed, while Derek sits next to him and whispers with Cora, in the far corner, Peter looks at his phone with his legs crossed.  
"You're awake?" Cora hears voices and turns around. "I was wondering if you'd sleep through the operation tomorrow."   
"Oh, I'm completely unconscious," Stiles says as he rubs his palms against his eye sockets. Then he brushes his hair up and hits his forehead. He bares his teeth and comes to his senses.   
“Cora brings sandwiches,” Derek says, pointing to the bed and glancing at Stiles’ messier hair after his rub with a "sure enough" look.  
"Why did you give me the bed?" Stiles jumps down and moves to Derek. "How are you feeling?"  
“Nothing,” Derek shrugs. “I mean, she’s well behaved.”  
After a night, the little guy seems tired, lazy and no movement. But Derek can feel her downward a little, pressing on his hip and lower back and making them hurt. Except that, everything is as usual.  
"... Why do I get the feeling she's gathering strength?" Stiles murmurs as he straightens out and stretches.  
"What about the others?" Stiles says to Peter, who keeps ignoring him. "How's Chris? Did you get anything?"  
"Uh-huh," Peter raises an eyebrow. "We saw from the surveillance camera on the road to the clinic the car following Deaton. It must be the crazy woman in the car. Chris was trying to find the car's source,” he rolls his eyes, "I don't hold out much hope."  
“No clue at all?” Stiles frowns, and before he can say anything more, Peter reaches into his briefcase and throws it at him. “See by yourself.”  
This must be what Sheriff Stilinski abused his power to allow them to bring back, with photos and records from the accident in it. Deaton was returning from the hospital to his clinic when he met Kate who had been waiting for him, his clinic was invaded, too. Deaton's office was ransacked, and Stiles sees the wolfsbane that Deaton was cultivating, destroyed as well.  
"She seemed to be looking for something in Deaton's office," Peter adds. "Maybe our encyclopedia found something like her weakness, it’s perfect now that he's lying there half-dead,” Peter rolls his eyes again, “This bitch is really hard to deal with!”  
Stiles loathes Peter's tone. He continues to flip the photos silently. Seeing blood all over the driver's seat and dial plate of Deaton’s car in the last photo, he flips it over and stuffs it back in his bag, gritting his teeth.  
"Hey, son, you're awake." Sheriff Stilinski knocks on the door. "I get a message from Melissa, and, uh, I think I'd come by and make some calls... Um, Derek, are you okay? "  
Derek nods stiffly, and Cora smiles, covering her mouth. "Let's get out of here," she says, leaving the room with Peter who has an impatient look on his face.  
"Oh, that's a little..." Sheriff Stilinski gives an embarrassed shrug. "I mean, I brought this," he says, holding up a small black bag, "Well... I videotaped Stiles when he was born. It's kind of a family tradition. It's very memorable. I mean, if you don't mind..." he explains laboriously to Derek.  
Stiles shakes his head awkwardly at his father.  
"...You don't have to give it to me," Derek says, looking down. "I mean, you should give it to Stiles. Surely I'm not the one recording this, am I?"   
"Oh, oh, okay." Sheriff Stilinski responds, quickly slips the camera into Stile’s arms and grabs the files in his hands, "Yeah, I still need to retrieve this. I'm mainly here for the files. I bring the DV just by the way. "  
"Mr. Stilinski, there you are," Scott pops his head in the doorway. "Hi, Stiles, Derek. Oh, DV. Are you filming Sheila tomorrow? That's so sweet..."  
"Scott, you're in the hospital..."  
"I brought Lydia over to talk to my mom about the surgery, and then I stayed with Deaton for a while,” Scott explains, before remembering his own business. "Oh, yes, Malia, they're at the library, checking out some Berserker stuff, and I remembered that Deaton's office has a bunch of supernatural stuff in there, but it's been quarantined by the police as a crime scene, so I’m just trying to get a warrant from the sheriff..."  
"No problem, I am going to the police station, drive you on the way." The sheriff readily agrees.   
"Wait, you're going to Deaton’s clinic?" Stiles shouts at the two men who are turning away.  
Scott shrugs and looks at him questioningly.  
“Uh…” Stiles recalls the scene in the photo and thinks he should get more information.  
"Stiles, maybe you should go with Scott. Maybe Chris missed something," Derek interjects.   
Stiles looks back at him in surprise. Derek looks up at him. Stiles knows. Derek already knows what he’s thinking.  
“But…”Stiles hesitates. Sheila will be born tomorrow. He is supposed to be with Derek before that and they are supposed to meet this extraordinary little creature together. It's important. Stiles feels a sense of ritual.  
"It's not a big deal, Stiles," Derek says. "All I have to do is sit here, and Cora and Peter are here as well. That scene is the closest source of information we have to Kate, so we shouldn't let go of the slightest possibility.”  
Stiles rubs his index finger across his chin.  
Sheriff Stilinski pats Scott on the shoulder and sneaks him out the door.   
Stiles sighs and walks over to Derek. When Derek tries to stand up, he presses on his shoulder and crouches down in front of him, putting his arms around his waist. “I’m just… I’m nervous,” Stiles says with a wink and a smile.  
Derek holds Stiles’ head and presses his sticking up hair down conveniently. He raises his eyebrow and whispers, “So do I, Stiles.”  
"... She must be the perfect little thing," Stiles says with his hand on Derek's waist and his thumb on his belly.  
"As long as she doesn't get your hair," Derek moves his finger and looks at Stiles' bunch of hair which keeps springing up back stiffly, says with a smile.  
"Let's see," Stiles greets him with a quick smile and kisses Derek. "See you in two hours."  
He lowers his head and kisses on the top of Derek's belly. "And you, too, beautiful. See you tomorrow.”  
Derek rubs the back of his head and kills the atmosphere, "Come back after brushing your teeth." 

Deaton’s clinic has been cordoned off. Blood clots formed in the street outside, turning a dark brown color. Stiles looks away. Deaton won’t have survived if Lydia hasn't called 911.  
“Where’s Deaton’s car?”  
"It's been moved to the back garage. Do you want to see the car first?" The sheriff opens the cordon and answers.  
"Well... Let's go to the office first," Stiles thinks for a while and decides to start with something less visually stimulating.  
The officer on duty hands them some booties and gloves and takes them to the clinic.  
Deaton’s office is down the hall, and Stiles has been in this clinic too many times, but he hasn't been in Deaton's office. The room is small and crammed with shelves of bookcases. The marks of a malicious search are obvious, and the floor is littered with pages and notes. Stiles watches carefully to make sure he doesn't step on any of the loose objects and looks around. Scott walks up to the bookshelf and looks for the books he needs.   
Stiles frowns at the pushes chair and the broken plant basin beside the window, then turns to face the bookshelf.  
"Do you think anything is missing here?" He asks Scott, who has worked here for years.  
"Uh... I don't come here very often," Scott scratches his head. "Oh, and Deaton mixes mountain ash in this door, and I can't get in without his invitation."  
“Wait…” Stiles looks back at the door. "You mean there's mountain ash in it?"  
Stiles gropes at the door and continues, "It's not right, you can't get in, it's the same for Kate, she needs Deaton to open the door for her. Assuming that she's got something in this room, she hijacked Deaton to open the door. Then she’ll definitely kill Deaton when her goal is achieved so Deaton should fall down and lie here.” He looks at Scott, “But Deaton was found in his own car, wasn’t he?”  
Scott opens his mouth and realizes, "Oh, yeah!" He thinks, squinting his brow. "So... why?"   
"She doesn't need Deaton to open the door... The mountain ash shields the shape-shifters, but not the Berserkers," Stiles says as he thinks quickly, “Technically speaking, the Berserker is a spell-controlled nonsupernatural creature, except for the two that attacked us that night, Kate has one more Berserker! She didn't come in, she let the Berserker in!" Stiles slams his fist into his palm.  
“This room is more like being destroyed in a random way than being searched, it is the Berserker,” Stiles says, squinting and muttering, “Why take the trouble to do that? Finding stuff is too elaborate for the bloodthirsty bloke. Kate wouldn't let the Berserker do it. It's more like a cover-up..."   
“I think I have something in mind!” Stiles waves his hand in the air, “We should have seen the car! Kate attacked Deaton before he got out of the car. Maybe what she wanted was in the car with Deaton! "   
He says as he runs out, and Scott and the sheriff quickly follow.  
"What could it be?" Stiles pokes his head inside the car. "Nothing was moved, was it?"  
"It's hard to say," Sheriff Stilinski interjects. "Maybe he picked something up on the way home?”  
Stiles thinks about Deaton's behavior that day, and he can't help but think that he misses something.   
The blood spatter on the passenger's side is a little grazed. There is a grocery bag and a hospital folder. Stiles picks up the folder. Inside are Derek's pregnancy tests reports and the surgery procedures. Stiles remembers him and Derek listening to Deaton in Melissa's office with this folder in his hand.  
Wait, there's something missing. The files about Jennifer’s spell! Deaton was handing Stiles those files when he explained why he recommended the surgery. Stiles goes over it again, and now they are gone. They're not in this folder.  
"Oh my God..." Stiles takes a giant step back and hits Scott in the shoulder.  
"What is it? What do you see missing?" Scott asks, bracing his back.  
“Kate’s not after Derek, her target is Sheila!” Stiles turns pale and before Scott responds, he grabs Scott by the shoulder and shakes it, “Come on, come on, let’s get back to the hospital!”  
Sheriff Stilinski is quick to respond. Although he doesn't understand Stiles' words, he takes out his cell phone immediately.  
"Hey, sheriff, "Peter’s voice comes out from Melissa’s phone, “Melissa and the redhead chick are checking Derek, her phone is on the table over here.”  
"Derek, is Derek all right?" Stiles chimes in loudly.   
“Do you guys need to be lovey-dovey to this far? I…”He doesn't finish, but a loud alarm ring comes from the other end of the line. "What is it? The fire alarm sounds?" His voice wavers, and then there is a commotion.  
“…Fuck!” Half a minute later, Peter comes back hoarse with anger. “Derek’s missing!”  
Stiles stares at the phone and feels like his heart has been smashed into an ice cube.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

In the surveillance video, a nurse is seen pushing a hospital bed out the back door, and she appears to be in a routine crowd of people evacuated because of the alarm. As if aware of the camera's position, she suddenly turns her head toward the camera, raises her chin slightly, and winks with a sly grin.  
Stiles looks at Kate's pretty face. He hunches over, his elbows on his knees, his legs twitching restlessly in rhythm. That must be Derek in that bed. It's the last thing he sees of Derek.  
"I'm sorry, there were so many people in and out of the hospital, and the smell of the potion confused my senses even more," Cora blames herself.  
Peter stands at a great distance, uncharacteristically silent, just scratching his knuckles with a cold face.  
When the alarm went off, Peter and Cora tried to get into the exam room, but the door was locked, and the exam room was connected to the back office and the pharmacy, so Cora changed lanes to block, and Peter kept pounding on the door. When he got in, all he saw was Melissa and Lydia passed out on the floor, and Derek was gone.  
Calm down. Calm down, Stiles. You gotta think. Think!  
Kate got everything planned in order. She counted the days and waited for Sheila's birth. She planned the first attack. She got the information needed from Deaton and took him out of the game. And Derek was hospitalized at the same time, moved from that steel apartment to a public place like a hospital, making it easier for her to get in and have it. Okay, the question is, where did she take Derek? She needs Sheila. She wants to finish Jennifer's spell. She wants the power of the spell.  
Stiles' hands tremble slightly and he squeezes them together to keep them from shaking even more. He closes his eyes and tries to remember what he had seen when Deaton showed him the documents. How does Jennifer's spell work? Um... She's Gonna let Sheila be born naturally, taking Derek’s werewolf power, and then, how is she gonna get that power from Sheila?  
“Stiles, Melissa and Lydia are awake.” The sheriff comes in and taps him on the shoulder.  
Stiles gets up immediately.  
Melissa is talking to Scott and looks up at Stiles with concern and regret. Lydia sits up and grabs his arm before he reaches the edge of the bed. "Stiles," she says, her head thrown back and her cheekbone bruised. "I… I just saw Derek in my dream." She chokes out the sentence, her eyes filled with tears of panic.  
Stiles puts his arm around her and his face is ghastly pale.  
“…It was dark there, very dark, he was in pain…” Lydia’s tears rub against Stiles’ chest. It’s not at all like her with great pride as usual.  
“The nemeton, yes, the nemeton! There they are!” Stiles suddenly exclaims. "That must be it! That's right!" He loosens Lydia palely and strokes his hair with his hands as he steps back. "Kate wants Sheila's power, OMG, just like when Jennifer was resurrected, she wants to sacrifice Sheila! She wants..." Stiles can't go on. He covers his mouth and squats down breathlessly, and the sheriff quickly takes hold of him and strokes his crest.  
There is a solemn silence on everyone's faces. Because no one but Deaton knows how to find that oak tree. 

Derek wakes up with a sharp pain in his lower back. He is dazed at the thought of moving his body in search of a more comfortable position, but finding his arm bound, he opens his eyes alertly. The surroundings are very dark. It’s small, like a basement or something, which only allows squatting height. The smell of dust, dirt, and wood fills the air. The place is no stranger, and it takes Derek two seconds to figure out where he is, but at the same time, he realizes he is in a terrible position.  
"Hello, gorgeous." The woman with the long blonde curly hair is leaning on a pole with one leg propped up, it's too dark, Derek doesn't find her until now. Kate turns to Derek with a sweet smile and looks at him with a kind, even flirty look in her eyes.  
"Kate," Derek says, lowering his eyebrows.  
"Oh, I love it when you call me by my name, Derek..." Kate is on her knees, leaning on the ground, pushing herself forward. "And these eyes, not blue, not gold, they're gorgeous when they keep their original color, aren’t they?” She leans forward slowly with a slightly uncontrolled obsession in her eyes. When she reaches out her fingers to touch the corner of Derek's eyes, he gently tilts his head and lowers his eyes.  
The sweetness in Kate's eyes melts away, and it makes her pale blue eyes, which are very similar to Chris's, seem a bit icy. She still smiles, but closes her fingers and rests them on Derek's shoulder, leisurely looks down at his bound hands, “Like old times uh, isn’t it?”  
Derek does not look at her, nor does he seem to have the desire to talk to her.  
Kate doesn’t mind his silence. She seems to enjoy being alone with Derek. She rubs his shoulder with the palm of her hand and her fingertips cling to his slightly sweaty skin. "I have to be honest, Derek, you're the hottest guy I've ever been with, even right now..." her hand goes down quickly and presses on Derek’s bulging belly.  
Derek struggles back violently but he has limited room to maneuver and can't escape Kate's touch. When Kate touches him, the baby twists as if sensing danger. Derek clenches his body and snorts in pain.  
"Oh, it is a lively little thing," Kate feels the movement under her palm, she lowers her head and raises eyebrows, slightly increases the hand strength.  
"Don't touch her!" Derek threatens with clenched teeth.  
Kate looks up at him in fake surprise. "I thought you could ignore me for a while," she says, her head held high and a golden glow in her eyes. "But you'd better not struggle too hard." When she finishes, Derek freezes instantly. Because Kate’s hand on his belly is transformed into the shape of a sharp panther claw, prickling against his skin through his clothes.  
"Don't worry, as much as I'd like to do that," Kate says, extending her forefinger and sliding it gently down the top of Derek's abdomen. "Cut through this layer of skin and take this enchanting little girl right out..."  
"But it would be a waste, as Deaton and the others are trying to do, to give you back your werewolf power, “ Kate says, brushing her hair near ear with her human-like hand, "I will finish the spell and let our beautiful Sheila, with the resurrection spell and your power, leave your body..."  
"Finish the spell?" Derek squeezes the pillar tightly. He knows that Kate is mentally as unstable as small leaves swirling in the wind. It made Derek nervous, and he tries to keep the conversation going, to keep Kate talking.  
Kate smiles, tugging at her collar, her neck and most of her shoulders bare. Below the collarbone and on her shoulder, there are two bullet wounds, and her ability to heal doesn't seem to have helped. The wound is surrounded by rotting flesh and there are also tiny, black, blood vessel-like lines, which look terrible.  
“These troublesome guys from the Calaveras,” Kate shrugs. "I need more strength to heal. You know, I really like bikinis.”  
Derek knows what this injury means. He himself had been shot by Kate with a blue wolfsbane bullet, and the spread of the poison will lead to the eventual death.  
“What a chance coincidence. I'm always surprised by Beacon Hill, and you, Derek, you, too," she says, licking her lips gently. "And Deaton, I finally know the whole story. Thank you, dear."  
"... You think..."Derek begins to realize the end result of Kate's words because the great root of the oak stands a few paces distant. At that time, his favorite girl lay quietly under the tree roots, her blood soaked into the branches of the roots.  
"Uh..." A dull, drawn-out pain from abdominal contractions makes Derek groan softly. The kneeling position is too much for him at the moment, and the pain of the simultaneous traction on his lower back adds to the pain.  
Of course Kate notices. She lets out a long “Oh”, "You're in labor."  
Derek gasps, “You can’t!”  
"Oh, of course I can." Kate pinches Derek's jaw, leans in close. She is very close to Derek’s lips, as if she wants to kiss him, then raises her paw-formed hand and rips the bandage from Derek’s arm. The paw goes down hard on the sutured wound.  
The claws cut the sutures easily, cutting into the flesh, causing the already healing wounds to tear apart even more, and the blood immediately gushes down Derek's arm.  
The tearing pain in his arm doesn't bother Derek so much. The cold sweat runs down his back as the frantic glow of victory flashes in Kate’s eyes.  
Kate dips her finger in Derek's blood, tugs at the hem of his shirt and draws elaborate incantations on his swollen belly. To Derek's horror, it seems to soak through his skin and disappear. Simultaneously passes in the abdomen the burning hot feeling, the baby's movement is more intense.  
"You!" Derek hit the post with his fist, the dust rising from it, finally, there is no coldness in his eyes, full of anger and panic.  
“Now let’s wait.” Kate holds Derek’s face and sticks to the tip of his nose, squinting and kissing the corner of his mouth as if they were dating then.

"Do it again! Disembowel the soul, just like we did last time!"  
“Don’t be stupid, Stiles! You are totally dead without Deaton calling you back!” Scott hits Stiles with his book.  
"There's no time. If we don't make it…” Stiles paces anxiously back and forth in Deaton’s office, his face reddened by the rubbing, which makes it seem as if he were on the verge of collapse.  
The others, struggling with their books to find a way into the nemeton, look at Stiles worriedly now.  
"Guys, I'm just saying, maybe we don't have to look for the nemeton,” Peter chimes in, sitting on the windowsill and patting the window behind him. “Sheila, she is the source of the restart of the nemeton, the center of all power, all we need is to find her, don’t we?” He holds up a thick book with the title of “Orientation of Magic Source” written on its cover.  
Stiles looks directly at the book, and seconds later, his eyes light up. “I hate to say this, you are a fucking genius!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"The closest thing to the source of magic, it goes without saying, it must be your and Derek’s blood,” Peter reads the words from the book. “Oh, maybe you could cut off a little finger or something, the result may be better.”  
Stiles gives him a blank look and has no time to retort his malicious jokes.  
They stand outside the woods, near dawn, but the forest seems wrapped in darkness, giving an uncomfortable sense of rejection.  
Stiles is holding a device that looks like a compass, but it's bigger and heavier. Locating spells require the use of a pointing tool, the older the better. This was in Deaton's closet.  
Derek's blood from the hospital comes in handy, so Stiles pours it out of the tube and drops it on the needle.  
Stiles looks back at his companions behind him. "Remember what we talked about?"  
Because Liam’s abilities are still shaky, Scott manages to leave the unhappy kid behind with “I'm entrusting my mother to you”, while Sheriff Stilinski leads a small team to wait outside the woods.  
"Go, Stiles," he says, patting Stiles' shoulder sideways as if he were a grown man. "Get your Derek and my granddaughter back."  
Stiles nods solemnly, and by the time he turns back, his eyes are bright and firm. He pulls a knife from his waist. Allison can handle a butterfly knife pretty well. Stiles isn't that confident, so he's got a gun on the other side. He cuts his finger and drips his own blood onto the needle, too.  
Peter holds the paper with the spell to him, and Stiles reads it carefully.  
"... It doesn't seem to be working. Did you read it correctly?" Peter's mouth curls up.  
“Quiet, Latin is not my forte!” Stiles stares at him and reads it again. Before he can finish, the needle in the dial begins to tremble and turn slowly in one direction.  
Without waiting for Stiles to speak, Peter snaps the paper and strides off into the woods.

The woods are darker, the roots push up against the ground and make it harder to walk, Stiles runs and stumbles.  
“Stiles!” Scott holds him by the shoulder. Stiles, who has been looking down at the dial, is suddenly pulled to a halt and looks up in confusion. Chris flashes his flashlight. There is a huge stump standing not far away. The exaggerated diameter shows the ancient age of the tree. Stiles lets out a big gulp.  
Next to the stump stands a small wooden house. No wonder there is no sign of Kate. She has made a home in the shadow of the nemeton.  
“Take action.” Stiles gives Scott a silent high-five.

"Well, we should probably..." Scott stands a few steps away from the cabin, scratching his head.  
"Bitch! Out!" Malia yells very decisively and roughly.  
Scott gives her a blank look with his mouth open, and Peter smiles appreciatively from behind.  
As expected, the tall woman comes out of the cabin and raises an arm to the door frame.  
"Gee, that's not very friendly, you little wildcat from the Hale family." Kate raises her chin lazily but looks at Peter. "You're the one stealing my golden monkshood. Now act like a good parent.”  
"Sorry, that's the Hale way," Peter replies with a smile, but his eyes are terribly cold.  
Kate gives a faint smile, moves her eyes away and looks at Chris next to him, "And you, my dear brother?"  
Chris looks at her deeply, without saying a word, and raises the gun slowly in his hand, pulling the barrel up in front of her.  
Kate's smirking smile fades away as she stands upright and clenches her teeth.  
"Give us Derek back," Scott announces, taking a step forward.  
"Scott, lovely Scott, I've always liked you," Kate takes a step forward, too. "Well, where is the one who’s always with you inseparable like shadows? Stiles, he shouldn’t have been absent, though he shouldn’t show up neither on such occasions,” she says, gathering up her hair and smiling again. “I thought you and he were supposed to be a couple, but..."  
She suddenly shuts up and turns her head quickly to look into the room.  
While they are talking, Stiles slips back into the cabin and is opening the stairwell door.  
Kate raises her hand, and something glittering with silver flows out. Stiles quickly blocks with the door and a butterfly knife is inserted on the door panel. Kate, meanwhile, has arched her back crest and sprints forward, with Scott immediately behind her.  
"You think you can..." Before Kate has finished speaking, she runs up to Stiles, who raises his hand and waves, the mountain ash in his palm makes a sharp circle around the entrance to the stairs below. Kate crashes into the invisible barrier, takes a big step back, and Scott, who is right behind her, takes her down hard.  
"You sly little bastard!" Kate yells at Stiles as she fights back, her were-jaguar form is horrible, lacking any semblance of her original beauty.  
"I thought you might know me better than that, too," Stiles tells Kate with a pale but mocking smile. "Well, yes, Scott and I are pretty inseparable."  
Kate turns around, gives Scott a strike, looks up and snarls. The clatter of armor is heard immediately outside, and her Berserkers rush out of the back woods and fight hand to hand with the others.  
"Fuck! She's got four Berserkers, four!" Peter calls out in exasperation.  
Stiles is dazed. He thinks Kate's only supposed to have three Berserkers. He should take Derek out of the basement when Scott and the others are stalling up there, then they retreat. He can’t believe Kate can handle four Berserkers, which makes this plan so much harder.  
"Go ahead! Leave it to me!" When a Berserker breaks through the perimeter and charges into the room, Scott throws Kate aside and lets out a powerful wolf roar. He blocks the entrance, his bright red pupils shining, “Go! Stiles!”  
Stiles quickly climbs down the stairs. 

"Derek?" Stiles climbs as he tries to adjust his gaze to the dim light in the basement as soon as possible.  
“OMG, Derek!” Stiles first sees the huge, sinuous roots of the oak tree, then sees Derek tied to it.  
Stiles creeps onward and reaches for the knife to cut the rope around Derek, who lands softly in Stiles’ arms. Stiles stumbles to the ground and tries to sit on his back.  
Derek's arm is covered in blood, a little congealed. It is around Stiles’ neck and gives a heavy smell of blood. His hospital gown is all wet and glues to him. Stiles' shaking hand touches the back of his head. His hair is wet, too.  
Stiles gulps a mouthful of saliva and throws his face into Derek's forehead. "Derek, I've got you. I've got you. It's okay..."  
Derek seems to wake up and calls his name vaguely.  
"Yes, it's me, hey, Derek..." Stiles feels his suspended heart fall back to the ground, and as if is cruelly pinched again. He can only pull out an ugly smile, pretending to be joking lightly.  
"Stiles, um…" Derek calls him again, the last note breaking. His arms around Stiles’ neck tighten sharply, followed by a muffled moan of pain. He pushes his head so hard into the recess of Stiles' shoulder that he snorts and blows hot air into his ears.  
Stiles is frozen. They are already close together, Derek's distended belly presses against him, and through the thin fabric he can even feel it is no longer the soft touch he has just felt, but it has become very hard. The pain lasts so long that Derek’s low groan becomes a growl of irritation and insufferable.  
Suddenly there is a loud gunshot, and Stiles reacts just in time to protect Derek's midriff and take him down. A bullet from the overhead shots through the not-so-thick floor, hitting the ground next to them, blasting away a clump of sawdust.  
"Do you think it's safe down there?" Kate's voice sounds shrill and triumphant. "I don't see how this floor will hold up!" Kate used to be a hunter and equipped the cabin with guns. Her good hearing allows her to fight Scott and fire a few rounds at the same time. And the wood above is so thin, it's only a matter of time before a werewolf, a were-jaguar, and a Berserker all come crashing down.  
Stiles looks up at the shaking “ceiling” as people keep falling on it and chills run up and down. And to cap it all, what's happening to Derek right now makes them can’t leave right away if they want to.

"Shh..." Stiles whispers in Derek's ear. "Are you okay?"  
"That really hurts... like hell..." Derek shakes his head low. Dust and sweat stick to his face, but can’t hide his pale face. He closes his eyes wearily after he grits his teeth and twists his body uncomfortably and finds it doesn’t help. "I don't know what Kate did, Sheila is not well, she moves a lot. We should leave right now…” He says, reaching for Stiles’ arm.  
"Hey, wait, Derek," Stiles takes hold of his outstretched hand and gently wipes the sweat from his face with his other hand. “Sheila is upset, I know, because she is coming and we can’t leave. She can’t wait.” He has noticed the water stain on Derek’s pants when he just wrapped his arm around Derek as he collapsed. Derek certainly doesn’t notice that his water has broken.  
"But..." Derek doesn't seem to understand, but he isn't blind to what is going on. He just can’t accept it for the moment.  
"It's okay. It's natural. She'll be fine," Stiles says as he begins to remove his coat. He speaks calmly, even gently from the beginning, but at the moment he takes off his clothes so clumsily that it takes him a long time to pull the zipper open. Because Stiles is so nervous, he can't breathe, he can barely control his fingers. When he finally peels off his coat, his nose is sore. He bites his lip and slides his jacket under Derek’s body, trying to look calm and collected.  
Derek is distracted by pain, but in this tight space, he is too close to Stiles, and he can see Stiles' red eyes. The negative feelings suddenly disappear. Derek finds out that from when he was tied up there to the present, going through more and more intense labor pains, and the panic, anger, irritability and helplessness from it, are all gone. And he is even relieved, because Stiles is here, he doesn’t know how many times he’s been going around in circles and how bewildered he was out of his sight, but Stiles manages to track him down, with a look of panic on his face and telling him “it’s okay”. Stiles is here, as he has proven countless times, he is here, everything will be fine.  
Stiles' T-shirt has a police strap over it, and it is attached to a gun and a knife at his waist. That’s got to be from Sheriff Stilinski. The strap wraps around his shoulders and tightens his thin, compact chest. Derek suddenly whispers, "That's kinda hot."  
Stiles lays the clothes, hears this and looks at him blankly. Noticing his eyes, Stiles opens his mouth wide and then realizes the significance of Derek's flirty joke. The water in his eyes glistens, and he takes Derek's hand and silently kisses his knuckles. Derek looks at Stiles' drooping eyelashes and feels the drops on his fingers.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it!  
> This story is coming to an end soon. One more chapter left.

Chapter 21

"Well, I'll... I'll check..." Stiles lets Derek lie on his side and rest on his lap, and feels around to take off his pants. Derek grabs Stiles' knees, his back is tight.  
Stiles leans down and thinks back to Melissa's last-minute cramming session. Jennifer's resurrection spell has altered Derek's anatomy, allowing the baby to be delivered naturally, and Stiles does see that place is wide open and the water is still flowing.  
Stiles grits his teeth and goes for it. Oh, my God, and although he does covet Derek's that place for a long time, it’s clear that this is not the perfect moment he dreams of. Stiles thinks wildly, but measures carefully with his hand and then he remembers the terrible sanitary conditions here, his baby daughter should be born in the clean sterile operation room in the hospital, instead of this dusty, crumbling old basement.  
Well, it's almost fully opened, but Stiles don't think it's big enough to hold a baby's head. He follows Melissa’s words and continues to poke his fingers inside to see how far the baby has fallen.  
"Stiles..." Derek is obviously uncomfortable with the invasive procedure, and he clutches Stiles' knee in surprise and embarrassment.  
"Oh, all right," Stiles panics, withdrawing his hand when Derek shouts. He feels he has touched something but he isn’t sure if it is the baby’s head.  
“She seems to be very close.” Stiles rubs his hand on his back and puts it over Derek's stomach. The skin temperature there is unusually high, and Stiles pushes down a little harder, trying to figure out the outline of the baby during the labor pains.  
"What are you doing?" Derek wants to seize the chance to recover his strength but Stiles' movements make him wrinkle his eyebrows painfully. He grabs Stiles' hand, which he wants to move down, and asks him slightly unhappily.  
"Am I pushing too hard? I want to make sure she's in the right place, you know, upside down..."  
"I know she is upside down," Derek says, pressing his hand to the base of his belly. "And she is going down…”  
"Oh, oh, that's good, that's great," Stiles rubs his hands. "So we're just gonna, uh, push?"  
"How to, uh..." As if in response to Stiles, Derek immediately hunches up and clenches his teeth.  
“Breathe, you follow me, like this, take a deep breath and then breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…” Stiles kneads the back of Derek’s waist with his palm and keeps chattering in his ear, breathing out like blowing a balloon.  
“It’s so stupid…” Derek says through his teeth, squeezing Stiles’ knee and devoting all his attention to the pain. The great thing about being a natural werewolf is that Derek never has to worry about injuries or pain, and the healing process starts with the repair of pain nerves, so although Derek even experienced severe wounds, the pain they bring is temporary, and the endless, escalating pain of labor becomes even more unbearable for him.  
"Never mind, it's science!" Stiles demands, wishing he could push for him.

It doesn't matter if Derek does or doesn't understand. By this time, the body's natural reflexes have taken over, and the muscles are flexing to push the tiny thing in Derek's belly down while inflicting on Derek the excruciating pain rising like a wave. He has to open his mouth wide and inhale sharply to keep himself from losing consciousness.  
Stiles keeps mopping the shards of hair off Derek's forehead, wiping the perspiration layer by layer and massaging his back from the ridge down with his other hand. He lowers his chest and cheeks to Derek's shoulder and neck. Melissa said skin to skin contact with a partner can help ease the pain during labor. And Stiles is so distressed that he hopes it will make Derek feel his company and support.  
"It's fucking hurt!" Derek clutches Stiles' clothing petulantly, weakly, as he can feel the baby descending somewhere and getting stuck, crushing the bones in there. It makes him feel like he is about to be torn apart from inside.  
It is as if their conversation has caused Kate to reposition, this time even closer, with another shot above their head. Stiles feels the splinters in his face.  
“For God's sake, Scott!” Stiles cries out in heart to his best friend, hoping he can get things under control up there. After all, he’s delivering his own daughter and it’s too much pressure for him to protect himself from attacks above at the same time.  
“I am trying my best!” As if hearing Stiles’ cry, Scott shouts from above. And then he hears the loud sound of a huge object falling to the ground. The whole floor is shaking and more dust falls.  
Stiles is even more nervous because he thinks he hears something like a splintering of wood.  
“Stiles…” Derek whispers his name, drawing his attention away from the plank overhead. His voice is low and husky, but Stiles hears panic in it.  
Stiles reaches down and touches Derek's shoulder to acknowledge his response, but Derek grips his extended hand and holds it tight. Stiles immediately senses that his pain seems more intense than before. Derek's eyelashes tremble a lot. He closes his eyes for a moment then opens them again. He pushes against Stiles’ knees and tries to sit up as if he can’t lie any more.  
Stiles grabs him and gives him a hand. Derek kneels on the ground, puts his hands on Stiles' thighs, and bows his head in silence. But the veins in his neck and the fingers wringing the fabric of Stiles’ trousers make Stiles’ heart pound.  
Stiles holds Derek’s neck, "What's the matter? It hurts too much?"  
Derek lets out a long, choking breath and shakes his head in a desperate attempt to escape from the torture. His mouth opens wide to inhale again, but this time, instead of suppressing a groan, a deep sob rolls down his throat then it stops abruptly, and he reaches up to his waist and slides down to ventral side, grabs the fabric there in the end.  
Stiles is struck dumb by his movements, and Derek falls into Stiles' chest suddenly, his body still rigid, and puts his head into the recess of his shoulder. He grabs the clothes on Stiles’ chest, trembling slightly.  
“Derek!" Stiles says in a panicked voice.  
“Stiles… the baby…” Derek squeezes the words out of his teeth as he presses his other hand on his belly as if he can’t help but push.  
Stiles grabs his hand back and looks over at Derek's belly, realizing something, “You, you stay still,” he pulls Derek closer to him, lifts himself up and looks down, “I got this, I got this…” he mumbles, not sure if he is talking to Derek or to himself.  
In the dark, Stiles isn't sure what he is seeing, so he reaches his hand over, at last it is confirmed that the hard object he has felt is the top of the baby’s head.  
"OMG, I think I feel her, I feel her, Derek, OMG..." Stiles ends up repeating "OMG" over and over again, this slimy touch is killing him, and Stiles thinks he can pass out in any time. He stiffens his arms around the small, bared head, and his mind is totally blank. What's next? What to do next?  
"Help me..." there is no gap in the pain. Derek can barely hear what Stiles is saying, he just knows instinctively that it is time for something to happen, because the pain has been so intense that it blackens his vision.  
"Well, she's out a little bit, and we're almost there, just a few more tries," Stiles tells himself never to be the one to faint first. "Derek, she's coming out!"  
Derek gets it this time, but the pushing isn't as effective as it has been before, and he hasn't had a drink of water since Kate brought him in, so he is exhausted. His lips are dry and white, but his cheeks and neck are abnormally red with continual exertion. Stiles draws back his head and sees his face and kisses pathetically on Derek’s forehead.

"Do something..." Derek breathes in, almost choking up. "I can't..."  
“Yes you can,” Stiles’ eyes are sour, so does his nose. He continues to kiss Derek on his tall noise, his damp temples, “Because you are Derek, you are totally a badass…”  
"So is she..." Derek finally looks up at him, sighs with a bitter smile and continues to hold his breath and pushes.  
Slowly and difficulty, the baby comes out little by little, Stiles prays as he gets the baby out. But at the shoulder, the little thing stops moving out.  
"Derek, I think we need an adjustment," by this time, however, Stiles calms down. He gently explains and lifts Derek. He raises one of Derek’s legs in a position that opens the pelvis more. Derek asks nothing, for Stiles knows that his obedience is a sign of complete confidence.  
"Let's try it again, just once, I promise." Stiles has a cold sweat on his back, but he keeps his voice firm. He pats Derek on the back, “I begin to count…”  
Stiles places a hand on Derek's abdomen and runs his hand down the child's path with a slight effort. Derek lets out a muffled grunt and tightens his grip on the Stiles' back. Their sweaty skins cling to each other. Stiles finally touches the baby's shoulder. He pulls back his hand on Derek’s belly to give it a whirl, and the baby slips into his hands.  
Bare and no hair, it looks exactly like a human baby. Stiles' eyes get moist instantly. He cuts the umbilical cord with a knife, puts the baby in Derek's arms immediately, then bends his head and rubs the corner of his eye with his shoulder. He thinks he should say something right away, like cheer or something, but he can’t say anything, he just wants to cry.  
"... Why is she silent?" Asks Derek in soft voice, staring intently at the baby in his arms.  
"Get her head down on your arm and massage her back," Stiles lowers his head for a quick follow-up treatment, then leans over to help Derek.  
The baby gives a little cough, and then bursts out crying. There seems to be a lull in the fighting overhead.  
"Hey there, nice to meet you," Stiles sits on the ground and laughs as if a heavy weight has been lifted from his mind.  
Derek stares at the baby in his arms in a daze, her tiny hand waving, clinging to his forearm, scratching.  
"I swear, she is Sheila, and I delivered her by myself," Stiles jokes, looking at Derek's face.  
"Well... she needs to wash." Derek finally speaks, his voice still hoarse, and he leans against the nearby pillar slowly.  
Stiles watches Derek is barely able to hold the baby, reaches over and takes it. “Yeah, in a minute.” He pulls the shirt up, wraps the baby in it, wipes her mouth and nose briefly and sees Derek’s eyelids slowly close. “Derek, stay awake!”

Before he can finish, there is a loud crash overhead, he grabs the baby in his arms immediately. Splinters of wood pour down, a Berserker grabs Scott by the neck and lands. Scott rolls over and slits his throat. Before he has time to turn around, the figure jumping down from the top fiercely inserts a hand into his back.  
“Scott!” Stiles pulls out his gun and fires at Kate. Kate leans aside and pulls back her hand at the same time, Scott collapses to the ground, lying there without a sound.  
Kate, who is wounded, stares at the baby in Stiles’ arms and smiles sweetly. "It really makes me wait.”  
Stiles points his gun at Kate, his finger on the trigger quivering.  
"Come on, Stiles," she says, her non-human eyes flashing cold, bloodthirsty light, "We all know how this ends.”  
Stiles cradles Sheila and closes his eyes in despair. The expected attack in the next second doesn’t occur, but replaced by a loud crash.  
Stiles opens his eyes, stunned.  
Derek pins Kate hard against the only pillar left standing. He grabs her by the neck, his sharp claws cutting the skin of her neck. Derek has a bright blue flame burning in his eyes, and he is roaring at Kate so loudly that Stiles’ eardrums are tingling.  
“It’s impossible!” Kate says in surprise with difficulty, “Your power should have been taken…”  
The werewolf Derek is clearly a beast at this point, again he puts more strength on his hands and Kate is even lifted slightly off the ground. When Derek turned before, he was never this violent. When Kate is strangled to near death, Derek withdraws his hand, flashes his fangs and without thinking, tries to bite Kate in the neck.  
Sheila, in Stiles' arms, suddenly cries louder and starts writhing around. Stiles regains his composure and pats his daughter's back, then looks up nervously at Derek again.  
Derek stops at the same time. He turns his head and meets Stiles’ gaze, his blue pupils are brighter, more violent and aggressive as well than ever before, as if burning away all those human emotions in them.  
“Derek?” Stiles swallows.  
The unusually bright blue light in Derek's eyes fades slightly, and he lowers his eyebrows, finally becomes familiar.  
"Our daughter seems to know how to make choices," says Derek, squeezing Kate with one hand. He raises the free hand, opens his fingers and clenches them into fists, feeling the power surge through his veins, and raises eyebrows at Stiles.  
Stiles lets out a long breath and gives him a ugly smile.

The fainted Kate is no longer able to control the Berserkers, and the others are finally able to rush in, staring at the scene and panting on the stairs.  
"Derek," Chris says in a calm voice.  
Derek’s hand clutching on Kate’s neck still doesn’t let go. He stands there, looking coldly at Chris.  
Stiles tries to say something, but in the end he zips his mouth and looks away, silent.  
Chris sighs, closes his eyes and turns away.  
Derek loosens his grip and let Kate fall to the ground, “Do what your hunters do.”  
Chris turns back in surprise, looks at him deeply, and then nods gratefully.  
"Uh, excuse me, is that Sheila?" Peter suddenly breaks the atmosphere that seems still and silent. His face and body are covered with bruises, looking awkward. He raises his hand, seeming to be extremely happy, “Do you mind I come over and introduce myself to her first?”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! The story is finally finished.  
> I will post an extra chapter about Stiles and Derek's life with little Sheila tomorrow.

Chapter 22

"God, she's so little," Stiles says, his chin jutting out into Derek's arms. "You're holding her like a hot dog.”  
Derek hears his last words and gives him a contemptuous look.  
But Stiles is right. Derek's arm is well muscled, and his hands are enormous, with one hand supporting the baby's lower back and her small head resting on his sturdy forearm. Combined with the fact that she is wrapped in a white, soft towel, it does look a bit like a hot dog.  
"She's beautiful," Sheriff Stilinski says after a long stoop and stare. "Can I hold her?"   
Peter raises his hand and snaps his fingers. "Hey, take a number and wait!"   
Derek turns around and puts the baby in Sheriff Stilinski's arms. Peter freezes and opens his hands with a very dissatisfied expression.  
"She looks just like Stiles when he was born," the sheriff says, cradling her granddaughter and pinching her fingers carefully.  
"Babies are all the same. They're all wrinkled," Peter shrugs.   
"There's a small pit in the tip of the nose, Stiles," the sheriff said, pointing at the baby's nose.   
Sheila wrinkles her nose, opens her little mouth to yawn, and then pouts.  
All of them let out a long “oh” and show the expression of heart melted.  
Melissa comes in laughing. "Well, you kids should go home and get some sleep, take a bath or something,” she motions to the sheriff to give her the baby, "Sheila's fine for now. We'll keep her under observation for a few hours, do a few tests, and you can take her home."   
Chris just took Kate and left, and the rest of them went to the hospital, and they are all in rags now and nodding their heads.  
The sheriff hands Sheila out, but in Peter's direction. "So, do you want to hold her before you go?”  
Peter freezes, then looks at Derek.  
Derek looks back at him with a blank expression on his face and says nothing.  
Peter opens his hands, a little nervous, and takes Sheila.  
"Oh my, she's so light," Peter says, holding Sheila in both hands and holding her flat in front of him as if weighing something. "How can she be limp? She has bones? Are you sure she gets all the bones right?”   
"Hey, can you put your arms around my daughter normally?" Stiles complains.  
Cora's laughing, helping Peter adjust his position so Sheila can snuggle into his arms.   
Peter runs his fingers over the soft skin around Sheila's ears and mutters, "That’s what it feels like when you hold a baby girl…” When he finishes, he seems to realize that he made a slip of the tongue and looks up at Malia hastily.  
Malia's been watching him. As his eyes hit her, she turns her head away from him as if being caught and puts her arm around Kira’s waist. "Let’s get something to eat. I'm starving."  
"Me, too. I'll drive," Peter says quickly, shoving the baby into Melissa's arms.

Derek and Stiles walk the others to the door then remember they're supposed to check on Scott, who's still in the E.R. Although thanks to the werewolf self-healing ability, he has been automatically stopped bleeding when he was sent to the hospital. But may be due to excessive physical exertion and excessive blood loss, he did not wake up, they left him to rest.  
Stiles goes to the door and is about to pull the door, but Derek reaches out and grabs him first. Stiles looks at him questioningly, Derek raises his chin to the inside.   
Inside the half-open sliding door, several beds are separated by curtains. There are no people inside, but two shadows are reflected behind a curtain. One is sitting on the other’s leg, holding his neck. The two heads cling to each other in slight variations.  
Stiles covers his eyes and shakes his head as he hustles Derek away.  
As they run into Derek's room, Stiles finally collapses into his bed, laughing.  
“Good for him. I almost suspect he was deliberately fainting!” Stiles bangs on a pillow and then sits up again. "Wait, do I have to remind Scott that Liam is underage... "  
Derek sits up and pushes him back. "What do you care," he says, rubbing the dust off Stiles' forehead and cheeks with the back of his hand. “Go to sleep.”  
All night long, Stiles is so nervous. The moment his back touches the soft mattress, he feels the sleepiness and fatigue sweeping over him.  
Stiles raises his hand and grabs Derek's wrist, gives him a clueless, stupid smile.  
So Derek lowers himself and looks at him with a smile in his eyes.   
They do not speak again for some time. Stiles moves his hands down the back of Derek's neck, places them around his waist and touches his belly back and forth. The flat underside of the palm gives a firm, muscular feel. The werewolves' ability to heal themselves leaves no trace that a baby had once lived there.   
Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, excellent, it’s true. Sheila was born. I brought you all back. It’s great.”  
Derek rubs his fingers around the tiny scars on Stiles' face. The scene in the basement is still in front of him. Stiles wrapped his arms around him. His steady, gentle words became his weapon against pain. “Thank you.”  
Stiles smiles and repositions his hand around Derek's neck. "You're welcome," he thinks for a moment then asks tentatively, “Um… Kate, why didn’t you kill her?”  
Derek is silent for a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "Trying to be a good example for my daughter.”  
Stiles lightly hangs up a edge of his mouth and pulls Derek towards him.   
Sheila makes Derek a little more soft and forgiving. He is no longer the fierce, impulsive, homicidal wolf he has always been, as if the emptiness in his heart has been filled. He’s concerned about other people’s feelings and he’s embracing these new relationships and, well, Derek is finally starting to enjoy life.  
"Nice to meet you, Daddy Derek.” Stiles says, he doesn’t kiss Derek on the mouth. Instead, he rubs his lips against his long, bushy lashes, playfully trying to contain them in mouth.  
Derek laughs finally, his eyelashes twitching, "Nice to meet you too, Daddy Stiles." He squeezes Stiles’ chin, pulls his naughty mouth away from his lashes, and kisses him on the lips.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all!  
> Thanks for reading!

Extra chapter

"Stiles... hmmm..." Derek whispers Stiles’ name. The response he gets is being pressed harder into the couch.  
Stiles reaches up to the back of Derek’s head, grabbing his hair and kissing him deeply, and buries himself deeper in his body.  
Derek's chest pops out. He grunts, opening his eyes and looking at him. His hazel and ashy gray eyes gleamed with icy blue, the werewolf power inspired by the sexual passion floats something primal and bestial in his eyes. But the thrill of Stiles' thrusting makes Derek's eyes hazy, making him especially seductive and sexy.  
Stiles is sweating from behind as he pinches Derek’s jaw, kisses him on the corner of his eye, cheek and ear, and then licks at his throat knot. The taste of sweat and Derek’s hormones. It makes Stiles all the more excited.  
Suddenly a burst of very loud cries penetrate through the wall, ring in the two’s ears.  
Stiles freezes instantly.  
Derek, too, stunned for a moment, gasps and clenches his teeth.  
“Well, Derek… I think…” Stiles retracts quietly, his face turning blue.  
"You want to interrupt?" Derek says hoarsely. "You want to interrupt now?"  
“But Sheila…” Stiles gulps down the salvia. Of course he doesn’t want to interrupt. Little Stiles is still standing tall and it is inhuman to tell him come out.

Peter and Malia went to a baseball game, and Derek's spacious home is now completely theirs for the night, uh... although there's still a baby in the crib.  
"She's just trying to get our attention," Derek says flatly. "It'll pass."  
The crying continues, and Stiles, feeling a little guilty, looks in the direction of the baby's room.  
Derek grabs his hands which he has just pulled back and presses them firmly against his chest then pins them hard.  
Stiles turns right around. Under the palms of his hands is Derek's muscular chest, hot and sweaty, heaving violently with every breath he makes.  
Stiles immediately feels his penis swell up again.  
Derek gets up, sticks his head in the air, kisses him rudely and presses him against the back of the neck. Stiles can feel Derek's fangs growing out and gently rubbing against his flesh, giving him the pleasure of a limp and numb.  
"Stiles, fuck me."  
Stiles' brain buzzes. Sheila’s crying has long since vanished from the horizon. Derek’s words are the only thing he has in his ears. And the pleasure is like an electric shock when Derek sucks his earlobe.  
Stiles grabs Derek’s ankle and rests one of his legs on his shoulder, red-eyed, and plunges at extremely high frequency.  
Derek is dragged a long way down by him and has to put his hands around Stiles’ back. Stiles moves violently and makes him shake unsteadily. Derek pulls his hands back and holds onto the back of the couch. His head is thrown back, his mouth is open but he can’t make a sound because the pleasure is too intense, but take several deep, oxygen-deprived breaths.  
This position allows Stiles to crush deep every time he sticks in. The corners of Derek’s eyes and neck are pink. He tries to close his legs unconsciously, but Stiles holds the knee of his other leg and pushes it to the other side, making his body open wider.  
Stiles likes the view of looking down from a height, and it gives him an unobstructed view of Derek under his eyes. The Adam's apple rolling up and down, the dark honey colored skin covered in glistening sweat, the lines of the abs accentuated by the way the body folded and the unabashed, gleeful and painful, slightly deranged expression of intoxication.  
And all of that, he loves so much.

When the sex ended, Stiles and Derek are face to face, slumped on the couch. Stiles holds Derek’s hand, playing with his fingers. Derek’s eyes are closed and his eyelashes are still fluttering as if in aftertaste.  
“Derek?" Stiles notices that the crying stopped somehow.  
Derek opens his eyes, turns his head sideways and frowns. "Something's wrong.”  
Before Stiles can ask what's wrong, he hears a familiar noise. “Puff! Da!"  
This voice is too close, so close that the two feel a bad premonition.  
Stiles holds himyself up, carefully leaning his head over the back of the couch.  
His little girl lies on her stomach two meters from the couch, head lifted. Her large, circular eyes sees Stiles and winks, then curls into two tiny crescent moons---- Sheila flashes her bright smile at Stiles and says, “Ta-Da!”  
Without Stiles retracting to report it, Derek realizes what was happening. He pushes Stiles away and looks quickly for clothing. Unfortunately, the two men are so excited that their clothes are thrown far away, stacked up quietly across the living room.  
Fortunately, Derek has sharp eyes and he finds a cushion which was originally on the couch near his feet. He hurriedly picks it up and blocks his key parts.  
Stiles almost rolls off the couch, and when he, too, finds the clothes are out of his reach, he angrily sues Derek, “Hey! What about me?”  
However, their daughter’s crawling speed is not to be underestimated and she is across the couch in no time at all.  
Stiles is so quick-witted that he folds his arms and crouches down immediately. Sheila's only eight months old, but as a father, naked in front of his daughter, Stiles can never get over it, and it's gonna be his worst nightmare.  
"Hey, Pumpkin," Stiles says with a smile. "You awake?"  
Sheila cackles as she crawls toward Stiles and holds out her hand.  
Stiles quickly steps back. “Honey, go for your daddy, okay?” He says, winking at Derek.  
Derek’s face clouds for an instant. He tries to appear calm, leans down on the cushion of his lower body with his elbow, sits down on the couch and bends over to open his hands to Sheila. “Sheila, come here.”  
The little thing actually prefers Derek a little bit, and switches the direction quickly. Derek scoops up his daughter and sits her in his arms, cupping her little head so her face is close to his neck. The little fellow can see nothing now, she twists unhappily to come back. “Sh, sh…” Derek rubs the soft light-blond hair on her head and kisses her temples.  
Stiles catches on, stands up quickly and runs over to the other side and picks up all of their clothes.  
Perhaps it’s the way he jumps over the coffee table that is so funny that Derek can’t help but giggle.  
Stiles gets all dressed up, puts Sheila in his arms, does the same thing as Derek.

"You're wearing my T-shirt," Derek says as he finishes putting on his pants, waves a white T-shirt with the Millennium Falcon on it at Stiles.  
"Oh, I'll give you..."  
"No, keep it on," Derek says with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile. "I love the way you look in my shirt.”  
Stiles’ ears get hot, and the he recalls how Derek took off his T-shirt, which was a few sizes too small, in front of Danny and himself, and shook it out angrily. "This, NOT FIT!"  
He grins. "Well, I like the way you look in my shirt, too."  
Derek immediately gets what he is talking about, crumples Stiles' T-shirt up and throws it at him.  
Stiles jumps sideways with his daughter in his arms, failed to dodge it and gets hit on his waist, then runs towards Derek with a laugh.

"Wait, how did she get out of the crib?" Stiles and Derek walk side by side into the nursery to put Sheila back in.  
Derek takes one look at him, bends down and begins to examine the crib carefully.  
"Look," Derek says, pulling up the bed a little.  
There are a few shallow marks along the bed and on the rails, according to their distribution pattern, there are also several scratches on the bed posts. They look like marks of something sharp and fine.  
Stiles feels familiar, and he quickly realizes what it is ---- paw prints.  
“Oh my God,” Stiles holds his daughter up in his arms, “Is that what I think it is? She gets claws?”  
Derek gently pinches his daughter's little hand, the soft fleshy palm, the little nails, the normal look of a human baby. He presses the back of his daughter's hand and rubs it. The little guy opens five fingers to grab his hand, but there are still no claws.  
"She can't control it. It's hard to watch," Derek thinks for a moment, “Maybe we can look at something else.”  
"Sheila, Ah," Derek rubs her lips with his thumb to induce her to open her mouth. Sheila opens her mouth to suck in Derek's finger, and Derek carefully pinches her little chin. Sheila has already had two lower teeth and a small front tooth. Derek scratches her upper flesh in her mouth with his finger. Sheila growls in her throat. Stiles sees two small, canine fangs protruding from her mouth.  
“Wow!” Stiles exclaims, “That’s…”  
Sheila was born with all the physical features of a normal human, none of the werewolf stuff, and Peter was so upset that he kept going on and on about how the Hales never had any descendants that couldn’t turn into werewolves. Stiles was on the verge of saying they were wrong, and maybe Sheila actually was a human being. Now he sees his daughter's little tusks, and is a little surprised and incommensurate at first, but looking at his daughter showing her little sharp teeth, laughing and blowing bubbles in his arms, he actually thinks she is even cuter.  
"Ah, she's like a little vampire!" Stiles jabs his finger to her daughter’s fangs curiously, and Sheila lets out a yelp, kicking her legs excitedly in Stiles’ arms, “Oh, are you enjoying yourself, Pumpkin?"  
"We're Gonna take a picture of her! Send it to Peter!” Stiles tucks his daughter into Derek's arms and reaches for his phone.  
Derek looks at him as he talks happily. His expression becomes a little gentle and soft, and then he gives him a sidelong glance, ”We should prepare something for her to grind her teeth and claws, or all our furniture will suffer. “  
Stiles stops taking pictures and feels a little blue. Ugh, why it feels like having a puppy?


End file.
